


Dream For Me Tonight

by ParadigmFlaws



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 126,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadigmFlaws/pseuds/ParadigmFlaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra Moore knew that life never promised to be kind. However at the point when grief threatens to overtake her she finds that a man by the name of Tom Hiddleston offers the promise of a dream she never even knew existed. Together, they learn that healing is possible - and sometimes, the dream was real all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

November 21, 2011

There were easier ways to do this, Cassandra thought. There had to be. Of course, finding an easier way that was socially acceptable and not conducive to being a terrible person was the legitimate challenge.

After all, that was what texting was for. It would have been so simple to call the entire thing off through a small message. It would have been unkind. It would have been mean and thoughtless. To hell with it. She would rather have been considered unkind than dealing with this.

Her pale blue eyes locked onto the figure across the coffee table. There wasn't much to see. Richard Jackson wasn't necessarily an unattractive man. He had a certain element of familiarity in his tousled brown hair and the way that his features creased when he smiled. It should have been friendly.

Right now, however, all that Cassandra Moore could think about was the fact that if he had his preferences she didn't believe she would have been capable of walking out of the coffee shop. Her grasp tightened around the plastic cup. The lid creaked ominously as the container altered its form underneath the pressure.

"I don't care, Rick," Cassie repeated quietly. "I hate to sound callous, but it's the truth. I'm not going to stay with you because you feel like it's right for you. This isn't just about you. It's my life, too."

The blonde woman straightened in her seat, eyes glancing to the door. Further conversation would only be tedious. Still.. there was a voice in her head that reprimanded her. Be considerate. This affected him, too. It could hurt him. It certainly had surprised him, judging from the expression the man had made at her softly spoken declaration.

"Cass, come off it. You know you're just in a mood. How about we go back, sit down and watch a movie. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

And there was the reason why this wouldn't work. Far from changing her mind his reply had only vindicated the sentiment. Cassandra closed her eyes as she drew in a slow breath, before rising out of her chair.

"We're through, Rick. You've kept too much of my life tied up because it made you happy. I'm not willing to spend years not taking chances and not living just because it's an inconvenience to you, just because it might make you uncomfortable."

Leaving the coffee behind, the tall blonde made her way towards the door. Abruptly shouldering it open, the cold rush of November air was a sharp slap of reality. Cass inhaled deeply as she left the shop. There. It was done. Over. No one else could tell her how to live her life. It had been a battle that she had fought for years growing up. Simply because the person had changed didn't mean she would be any more inclined to let them dictate her character. Richard Jackson had no right to define who, or what she was. Only she could make those decisions. Only she could make that call.

That determination of self destiny had permitted Cassandra Moore to become her own person. The twenty four year old had pursued education in a field that interested her, had found a job that she had a passion for. It might not have been, in hindsight, the best way to maintain civilities with her father, a proponent of the family business, but it was her life. It was her choice.

Glancing at the clock face on her wrist as she walked to her car, the woman laughed. If it was one o'clock in Michigan, then it was only six in London. While the long distances charges would be murderously painful, the conversation would make up for it.

Sliding into her car and turning the keys into the ignition, she shivered gratefully at the blast of warm air. Leaving the engine idling, Cass reached into her purse to pull her phone out. A cursory glance at it informed her of no new messages or emails. Thanksgiving Break was nothing short of a godsend. All of her students' papers had been graded and the points from their other coursework was now up to date. It meant that she had time for her own plans.

Inputting a number from memory, the woman waited as Bluetooth from her car picked up the call. Setting the phone down and settling back into the drivers seat, Cassie shut her eyes listening to the ring.

"Good evening, Cassandra!"

"Afternoon, actually," the young woman replied laughingly into the speakers. "It's good to hear you, Jane. How are you?"

"Well, thanks. And you? I'm assuming you've already had the dreaded confrontation, considering you're calling me."

"You know me well."

Cass opened her eyes briefly to stare out the windshield. The scenery of the parking lot was uninspiring but her imagination could pull her away from that place to another entirely. Curled up in Jane's flat, she would be sitting on the floor reclining against the older woman's legs. She'd be holding a mug of tea while Jane fussed with Cassandra's unruly blonde hair out of habit.

"Alright. I'm.. alright. Honestly, Jane, Rick was unreal. He seemed to believe that if he said no firmly enough or loudly enough, that I'd change my mind. I was actually wondering.."

The voice through the speakers interjected. "I hope this means you're considering another stay here. I miss our conversations. Email correspondence simply isn't the same."

A slow smile crept over Cassandra's expression. She straightened in the driver's seat and reaching out to rotate the key to turn on the engine. Laughing as she drew the car into reverse, the young woman rolled her eyes though she knew Jane couldn't catch the expression.

"You're a saint, you know that? I was just thinking.. that to get away right now would be excellent. Samantha's got some trip planned over the holiday with a friend. Visiting galleries, I guess. Mom and Dad were planning on going down to Arizona, and while I'm sure they'd love to have me.. I'd rather see you."

"Fantastic! I know you'll be out of school the week of, so I'll just assume that in that block of time you'll be around. Keep me posted once you get flight dates, alright?"

"Thanks, Jane. This means more to me than you could realize, you know that?"

"Oh be quiet. Silly girl. You don't think this isn't selfish of me, too? It'll be good for the both of us. Give me a call or an email once you've figured out travel plans."

"That, I can do. It was good to talk to you, Jane. I'll catch you again soon."

"Take care of yourself, Cassie. Good hearing from you."

The ringtone sounded through the speakers at the abrupt click of the call disconnecting. Flipping the indicator to turn out of the parking lot, Cassandra Moore couldn't help her grin. She had woken up this morning realizing she had to divest herself of the baggage from an unhealthy relationship and by lunchtime she was planning a trip to England.

Airfare was certain to bleed her dry but it would be worth it. The breath of fresh air that accompanied the pleasure of good company without the pressure of any expectation was worth any cost.

Still, a lingering chill coursed down her spine and Cassie shivered. The feeling was eerie enough that her eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror. Standing framed by the door of the coffee shop was Richard. He watched her leave, hands jammed into his pockets.

The stance told the story that his words never would. They weren't through. Not by a long shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're referring to DFMT's Tumblr (dfmtinfo.tumblr.com) the chapter titles here are different than the ones they reference. AO3's version of Dream For Me Tonight will be shorter, as there will be chapters posted in the way they were written - some may be longer. Sorry for any confusion this causes!


	2. Airplanes & Jetlag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After traveling to London, Cassandra Moore is left with the unsettling sensation that she's being set up for something. Unfortunately, the creator of the nefarious plot is more than capable at keeping her own secrets. After all, as far as Jane is concerned, it's for her young friend's own interests!

November 24, 2011

Letting the suitcase fall from her hand with an audible thump to the floor, Cassandra reached out to embrace the older woman before her. Jane's arms were equally tight around the blonde's waist. Rubbing her hand gently between Cassie's shoulders for a few moments, when the two separated both were smiling.

"Glad you made it without a hitch," Jane commented. The inane topic was one that Cass could reply to without thinking. It gave her time to compose herself, settle the emotions that were readily apparent in her eyes.

"Without a hitch you say," Cassandra scoffed. Even though her tone was disdainful, her tone was teasing. "Without an irregular hitch I think you meant. Because there's no way that a plane seat will ever be comfortable for me. Fight to the death for an aisle seat."

"And nothing's changed in ten years. Good to know."

Cassie paused, looking down at Jane consideringly. She grinned a moment after.

"Well, other than the fact that I grew four inches, give or take, after the age of fifteen."

Shaking her head, Jane had no comment for that. Stepping to the side and locking the door behind them both, she preceded her guest into the house.

As she walked, Cassandra couldn't help but be struck by the familiarity of it all. They had done this before. It hadn't been here in Jane's apartment, and it hadn't been recently but it was all too easy to regress. Those days when Jane had been 'Ms. Goodman' were a decade ago, but the memory lingered in Cass's thoughts. They had been teacher and student in those days. Jane had seemed impossibly daunting in those days, her acerbic wit and sharp mind intimidating the awkward adolescent girl that Cassandra Moore had been.

Years changed them both. Retiring had lightened the burdens across Jane's shoulders. Degrees – a bachelor's and a masters' had given Cassie confidence she never thought she could attain. These days, it was she who stood in front of a classroom with the chance to interact with students on a daily basis. She had found a passion for learning in education, and she owed that to her former teacher.

Now, though, as she was pressed into a stool in the kitchen, those boundaries had dissolved. She didn't have to be the gawky, awkward teenager any more than she was obligated to be the composed adult. Gratefully accepting a mug of tea that Jane slid across the table to her, Cass rather thought that was the appeal.

There was no expectation to be anyone other than what she was, in that moment. Every insecure inch, every jealous thought, every self belittling moment was accepted at this table. It was understood.

"I do remember you as being smaller," Jane brought up at last, a sly little smile playing about her lips. "Significantly smaller."

Cass laughed. "I don't think I was ever as short as you, though."

The older woman's eyes rolled in reply. It wasn't hard to do, with the fact that she barely broke the five foot mark. The younger woman had loomed over her all of her high school career.

"What are you, six foot these days?"

Cassandra extended a sock clad foot and rotated her ankle. "Six two in four inch heels. Which I may or may not have packed."

"Good God, girl. Did you have room to pack anything else? How?!"

A Cheshire grin overtook Cass's expression as she rested an elbow on the table, leaning forward to cup her chin in her palm. Letting her other fingers drum restlessly against the mug, she laughed shortly.

"Secrets, my dear friend. If I don't guard my secrets I should be as transparent as glass and how boring would that be?"

"Somehow I don't think I could ever accuse you of being dull."

Silence pervaded the kitchen after that. There were too many thoughts on behalf of both women to continue pressing the conversation. Cassandra's thoughts drifted to the recesses of her own mind. Those dark corners were rarely explored and full of things she was rarely willing to bring to light.

Yawning abruptly, the blonde shivered slightly. Sleeping overnight on a plane was always an exercise in luck and while it might have been eight o'clock in London it was still three in the morning in Michigan. Her body wanted nothing more than to find a warm corner and sleep.

Caffeine was clearly the only answer. Sadly it wasn't offered in IV form. Drinking the rest of her tea in one swallow, Cass turned her bleary eyes to her hostess.

"Do you have any plans? I hate to be such an unexpected imposition.. don't feel like you have to stay around the apartment for my sake."

Jane laughed. In hindsight it should have been the first indication that something was up. Cassandra Moore had experienced it a multitude of times before in the classroom. That always meant that Jane Goodman had made plans. Scary ones. Ones that her students were likely to protest.

Feeling fifteen again, Cass swallowed uneasily as she straightened even further on the stool.

"Funny you should bring that up," Jane replied lightly. The artificial cheer in her voice was another notch in the category of 'something's up'. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously at her former teacher, Cass's hands folded in her lap.

"There's actually a function I was supposed to go to tomorrow night."

That would be easy. Cassandra opened her mouth, intending to relay the fact that she could easily entertain herself. She could even have a late dinner, or dessert, waiting for them both depending on when Jane would be expected to return. It would be nice to curl up with a book, uninterrupted for an evening.

"However, something else has come up. I was wondering if you would consider going for me?"

Cass's lips pressed closed. Wind thoroughly taken out of her sails, the young woman's blue eyes observed the older woman reproachfully. It was a look of such quietly tortured abuse that Jane laughed.

"Oh give off. It's nothing like your dad's company functions. It's a thing for charity. Several people I was working with a while ago asked and I got a ticket for it but… well. Turns out that something else came up. I need to visit a friend that evening and it'd be a shame to waste the ticket."

Cassandra groaned, letting her arms fall flat on the table. Pressing her forehead to them, her eyes shut. She had the distinct sense that she was being taken advantage of. Her ability to formulate a coherent argument had deteriorated with her lack of sleep.

"I couldn't possibly," she replied at last. "I haven't anything to wear and I'd hate to embarrass myself in your name. You know me, Jane! Strange place… strange people."

"Come off it," Jane replied brusquely. A hand on Cass's shoulder told her that the woman had risen from her own stool to stand next to the hunched over girl. "It's not that bad. They're good people, you'll have a table with my friends. Several of them are quite interested in history, anyway. You've got tailor made conversation. I consulted with them on a project last year, that's how we met. They're good people."

Cassie merely grunted in reply. Translating that positively, Jane wound her arm around her waist.

"I've got the dress taken care of, actually. I didn't realize how well I had it covered – good lord, you're looking better than I had remembered – but you don't need to worry about that, either."

In a matter of seconds all of her arguments had deteriorated. Turning her head so her cheek was pillowed on her forearm, Cass gazed reproachfully at Jane.

"You planned this," she accused blearily. "You and your nefarious…. Self. What's all this about?"

A squeeze around her waist and a benevolent kiss to the top of her head didn't give her an answer. However, when Jane insistently tugged, Cass carefully unfolded herself to stand squarely on the floor.

"Never you mind that. Let's go out for breakfast. You look like I've dragged you from a grave. We'll spend today picking through museums, and I'll feed you. Tomorrow we can figure out what needs to be done for the evening, alright?"

Cassandra Moore laughed after a moment's pause. Following Jane to the door, she shrugged on her heavier raincoat over the sweater that had been carefully smoothed out to try to alleviate the rumpled appearance it had incurred over the course of her flight. Edging outside before the older woman did, she paused in the hallway of the building, waiting for Jane to lock the door behind them both.

"You've bought back my affections with the promise of food, caffeine, and wonderfully old things. Lead the way, my dear friend. I think I can be teased into better spirits for the moment."

There was a niggling thought in the back of her brain that Cassandra couldn't escape. Why had all of this been planned the way it had? Surely Jane could have found someone else to take up the ticket, never you mind her own plans being dreadfully last minute. And she was planning on visiting a friend? Something didn't make sense.

It could be sorted out later, though. Right now her mind was too fatigued to attempt to make up or down of anything. It would have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There aren't too many original characters I introduce that have a significant role in the story but Jane is one of the few who do! I do hope everyone enjoys how she's presented.


	3. Nefarious Plans

November 25, 2011

"I don't know if I should applaud your good taste or be creeped out at how well you've planned this out."

It was a bizarre feeling. Piece by piece, Jane and Cassandra had put together her appearance for the evening. It started with the underthings: black underwear and a black bustier. The older woman had attempted to fight for the presence of nylons but Cassie had, at least, won that particular battle.

"I'm too tall," the blonde commented frankly. "Even the longs try to ride down. I'll be hitching them up all night and if you're trying to make me be you, that's definitely some damage to your credibility."

The point stood and Cassandra Moore had managed to escape the stockings. Her friend might have made a viable argument for a garter belt but it simply seemed too over the top. Dressed in nothing more than her underwear and wrapped in a towel Cass was brusquely relocated to a bench in the master bedroom. Warily watching her friend stride around collecting a curling iron, embellished hairpins and plain bobby pins, the young woman wanted to wince. When hairspray was added to the arsenal she knew she was doomed.

Eyeing her reflection, Cassie thought that the long damp length of blonde hair could only work against her. Trying to coerce the thick mass into any semblance of obedience was a gambler's draw at best. Wishing Jane the best of luck, Cass shut her eyes and slumped down on the bench. It was only three in the afternoon. She had time before she should be getting anxious.

Letting the hours tick past, both women seemed content for quiet to preside. There were occasional quips – yelps when hair was pulled too tightly or snickers when something didn't go quite the way someone had planned – but for the most part a comfortable silence settled between them.

It was only when Jane asked Cass about her knowledge of World War One history that the younger woman's attention seemed to focus in. The pressure on her hair made it so that Cassandra couldn't quite tilt her head in quiet inquiry but she ended up lifting a brow in reply.

"I feel like I'm being set up," she replied plaintively after a moment. "If I answer yes I'm going to get quizzed by the teacher who taught it to me. If I answer no, the teacher who taught it to me is doing my hair. There's no good answer."

Jane laughed. "Would I really do that?"

"Yes."

The emphatic reply gave both women the opportunity to laugh. Jane rested one hand lightly on the nape of Cass's neck as they shared in the momentary humor. Squeezing her shoulder fondly, the nimble fingers returned to pinning the mostly dried hair the way she wanted it.

"I know you teach US History and World Cultures, but what other courses do you have?"

"Foreign policy is one of my favorites. Contemporary American issues is another. I actually do teach a course on Europe in the two World Wars, though."

Cassandra met Jane's brown eyes through the mirror. The older woman's smug expression told Cass that she had just answered something correctly. What precisely, though, she had no notion of.

When it seemed that her mentor would have been content to let silence settle between them again Cass straightened slightly. Shifting her weight to be seated more squarely on the bench she locked her blue eyes onto Jane's through their reflections in the mirror.

"Why do you ask?"

It was, admittedly, a straightforward question. She hadn't laced the tone with any of the suspicion that she felt. In the end, Cass thought that it was the guileless expression she made that gave her away. Wincing as Jane tugged her hair sharply in reprimand she made a small noise of protest.

"Don't give me that look," she chided. "And I ask because that's what I did for the people you'll be meeting tonight. Consulting. Well, maybe not the people you'll meet, but that was the project I did."

This didn't help clarify anything as far as Cassandra was concerned. Her expression said as much.

"Give off," Jane replied after a moment's pause. Securing another lock of hair with a plain pin, she used her now free hand to squeeze Cass's shoulder comfortingly. "It's something they'll probably ask you about. Since you're me, anyway.. well. Me thirty five years ago. Only taller and blonder."

Her attempt at consoling Cassie's anxieties didn't go terribly far. Talking about history at a function where she was getting her hair put up and wearing a dress that she had yet to even see? Memories of her own high school career reared to the forefront of her mind. It was the awkward girl who could only talk about academics at prom because she didn't know how to connect with people in any other way all over again.

Cass twisted her lips into a wry smile. Age didn't alleviate any of the old insecurities.

"You flattering me isn't going to make me any happier about this," she remarked to Jane after a seconds' pause. "I can tell you, now that I'm not punch drunk and exhausted, why this is such a bad idea, Jane."

The older woman stepped back from the bench, tugging Cass up to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her towel clad waist, Jane rubbed a hand comfortingly over Cassandra's upper arm. Tugging her into the other room where a dress bag had been laid out over the bed, she looked at the younger woman contemplatively.

"I knew you when you were fifteen," Jane began quietly. "You were tall and awkward and so painfully smart. I could see you struggling to interact with people on a level you both could be comfortable with. I saw you fail. I saw you grow, Cassie, and I saw you change from that teenage girl into an adult woman. You may not trust any easier, you may not like interaction any more, but you've grown into a charming young woman, Cass. You can hold your own. If you can't believe in yourself then have faith in the people who can believe it for you."

Silence pervaded the room after that. Cassandra was turned around, the towel tugged away. Folds of blue fabric had been piled at her feet and she was nudged into stepping into the center, leaning down and drawing it up her figure. Holding the front up over the bustier that kept everything in place, Cass bent down slightly so Jane could tie it behind her neck.

Feeling the nimble fingers at work, she shut her eyes and let her friend continue to commence her magic. There had been something comforting in letting Jane do her hair. The rhythmic, steady pull was like being a child all over again.

It all would be taken care of.

Without a word, Jane took control of Cassandra again. Pulling her to the open closet door where bright light and a full length mirror waited, the teacher reluctantly turned her eyes to see her reflection.

Cassie froze as she saw the reflection.

That person couldn't be her. It wasn't Cassandra Moore. The dress elongated a lengthy figure. Gathering beneath her breast, the fabric emphasized the fuller curves of her chest and hips. With her hair gently curled and then pinned up, the length of her slim neck and pale skin became classically translucent.

Whoever the person was, she was beautiful. Lips made redder from an unabashedly matte red lipstick pursed in shock as lined, smokey eyes opened wider as she attempted to take in the whole of her reflection. There was nothing to further adorn the presentation other than the beaded cinching beneath her breasts and the clear stones that gleamed from the combs carefully set in her hair.

Cass reached out and carefully grazed her fingers against the glass. The girl in the mirror reflected the action. Eyes still wide with wonder, she turned to look at Jane.

"This is what I see in you," Jane said softly, smile kind. "This is who I see. You're too strong, with too many convictions to ever be easy to know. But your kindness, and empathy are beautiful. Even your insecurities define you as the girl that I love, kiddo. You don't owe an apology for any of that."

Pressing her lips tightly together to fight back tears, Cassandra reached down to envelop her mentor in a tight hug. Her eyes were shut to keep the moisture at bay.

"You wretch," Cassie murmured with a watery laugh. "You've done all this work and now you're going to make me cry and you'll have an excuse to make me sit through it all over again. I see your tricks."

Holding tightly to one another, one might have expected the women to have lost track of time. To do so, however, would discredit Jane's mercenary tendencies. Extricating herself from the embrace carefully to avoid rumpling Cass, the brunette reached over to the dresser beside them.

A small velvet box had been waiting there for this moment. Cassandra only watched quietly, tears receding as she regained her composure. Watching Jane open the jewelry box to reveal gold chandelier earrings, set with green amethyst nearly brought the weeping back.

"This is too much," she tried to protest, voice uncharacteristically unhesitant.

Unrelenting, the older woman reached up to carefully remove the silver hoops that Cass had been wearing earlier. Taking the new earrings out she delicately threaded them through the piercing holes.

Jane smiled patiently. "Never."

Argument might have been futile but to bow down gracefully wasn't necessarily in the blonde's nature. Cassie parted her lips to protest again when Jane cut her off.

"You're going to this because I've asked you to, Cassandra. I know this isn't comfortable for you. I know that you've just gotten out of a relationship that tried to kill the very design of who you are. So I'm giving you armor. You're beautiful any way you look, but this – this is special. Let me share you with people who can appreciate that, Cass. Let other people see how wonderful you really are."

When it was put that way, what could she say to refute it? Swallowing and shifting slightly, the young woman managed to straighten once the earrings were secured. All that she had left to do was slip into her shoes and find a coat.

"I feel like Cinderella," Cass remarked drily. "Just don't make me wish I were a pumpkin, alright, Jane? I don't think I'd recover."

Jane just laughed, shepherding her young charge out to the door. The other articles they needed would be there. As she followed Cassie to the foyer, she was struck by how very right she had been. Every step that Cassandra took was long and measured. Her discomfort in the outfit only made her posture all the more erect, emphasizing the soft curves and elegant lines that designed her figure.

Cassandra Moore was beautiful. By the end of the night, Jane hoped she could see it in herself rather than requiring other people to believe it for her. In the very least, other people's appreciation of it would help start the journey.

She was worth it, Jane knew. She was worth all of this, and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find images relating to this chapter (What Cassandra is wearing) at dfmtinfo.tumblr.com although you may have to scroll back a few pages.


	4. Anything but Luck

November 25, 2011

Watching the people walk up the carpeted exterior stairs was a daunting prospect in and of itself. They were, Cassandra thought, everything that beauty and elegance was meant to be. The lingering flashes of photographers' cameras only made the notion of actually exiting the car and walking into the hall even more intimidating.

Oh, certainly, Jane had said that she could appreciate it. It would be held in the main lobby of a museum. The set up permitted for a set up of a multitude of tables with room still left over for an improvised stage and then clear space beyond it for dancing. For her part, Cass had been bought by the word museum.

Now, though, she could only consider herself crippled by second guesses.

"Everything alright, Ma'am?"

She looked up to meet the driver's polite expression with a timid smile. Drawing the grey shawl more closely over her bare shoulders as the only acknowledgement to the chilled November weather, Cassie shook her head. Securing the small clutch with the ticket in her hand, she reached for the door with the other.

"Oh no, Miss," the man remarked quietly after a moment. A grin spread over his face, craggy from the years of his life. "Let me get that for you. You look lovely tonight, if I might say so."

Cassandra looked back up at him, startled. "Thank you," she breathed quietly, confidence having fled in the face of what she had truly committed herself to.

He stepped out of the car and walked around the front, brusque stride making it a matter of seconds to get to her door. Pressing her knees together in an attempt to compose herself and make certain her skirts fell correctly, Cassie quietly took the outstretched hand he offered. Stepping out of the car was a simple affair after that.

Finding her feet on the damp stone she eyed the stairs up to the entrance. While her black suede pumps were comfortable, coming down these steps later would be hazardous. Provided Jane had so thoughtfully taken into consideration transportation home. It was another anxiety that started to constrict her lungs.

A brief squeeze on her fingers drew her attention back to reality. Sheepishly releasing the driver's hand, Cass let her arms fall back to her sides.

"Thank you," she echoed softly. "I appreciate it."

Her free hand caught a small fold of material from her dress. Thusly secured, Cassandra began to make her way up the steps to the door. Using her vaunted height to elevate herself to a place where she refused to acknowledge any of the people around her, the young woman began the solitary trek to the indoors.

Providing the ticket at the door, she offered the usher a timid smile. This was his job. He wasn't someone who necessarily wanted to be there. It made it easier to offer him a fragment of her kindness, of her acknowledgement.

He grinned in return, gesturing her into the already crowded room. The circular tables seemed to seat anywhere from six to twelve individuals and name placards indicated that each person had a designated spot. From where she stood Cassandra could have easily numbered at least two hundred.

Nervously smoothing her skirts out her sides, she wondered how she was ever anticipated to find where she was meant to be going. Damn Jane for this. She didn't even have a functioning mobile number for her time in London. Pressing her lips together in a firm line, she sought to gather her resolve.

"You look a touch lost."

The quiet, masculine voice in her ear was nearly enough to overset Cass. Eyes widening slightly in surprise at the way someone had taken her so off guard, the blonde woman turned her attention to her right. An older man stood closely to her, a woman a few steps behind him.

She offered them both a polite smile.

"I'm afraid I'm a touch transparent," Cassie admitted quietly, her self depreciating humor thick in an attempt to cut away the awkwardness of the moment.

"An American!" The brunette woman behind the man smiled kindly in return at Cass. "It's good of you to come, although it seems you might be a bit far from home?"

Looking at both of them, in a moment of quiet Cassandra wondered if she was doomed to loom uncomfortably over everyone the entire evening. From the driver to the usher, and now these two? Perhaps the stilettos had been an unwise idea.

"A bit," she admitted easily, polite smile still in place. "I suspect this is a friend's attempt into coercing me out into the world, actually. She's local, I'm only here for a short while.. although," and here her gaze cut back to the man, "you're quite right. I'm hopelessly lost. I have no idea what to expect of tonight."

Other than the fact that it was a charity gala for UNICEF, Cassandra Moore knew nothing. Anticipating anything from a dinner to a silent auction, the young woman had packed her checkbook in her clutch, along with a few loose notes of currency and her own identification. It couldn't hurt to plan ahead, even if she hadn't a clue what she was planning for.

"I'm Ken," the man replied with an easy grin in her direction. He offered her a hand. "This is my wife, Lindsay."

Accepting it smoothly, Cassandra shook it firmly, doing the same when the brunette woman offered hers after. "It's nice to meet you both. I'm Cass."

Lindsay appeared to hone in on that detail. Her dark eyes brightened and her lips curved into a more welcoming smile. It was more than a polite veneer, Cassie thought. This was an indication of who she might really be underneath the glamor of the evening. It was a glimpse at who the person really was.

"Cassandra Moore, by any chance?"

She smiled in return, responding to the burgeoning warmth. "That would be me."

Lindsay shared a smile with her husband. While Ken's expression didn't deviate as much as his wife's there was a glimmer at something more than a façade of graciousness. It eased the viselike grip anxiety had set around Cass's lungs.

"How lovely," Lindsay continued easily, reaching out to take Cassandra's hand again. "Our table was looking dreadfully unbalanced but you seem to be the one saddled with us in an attempt to settle the numbers. We're at table five together."

She didn't have to be alone.

It was the only thought that coursed through her awareness for a moment. Relief nearly made her go weak in the knees. Instead, Cass simply offered them both a tremulous smile. It was hesitant (she could feel her lips quiver) but it was honest.

Wondering if she was doomed to repeat thanks for the entire evening or even if a thank you would be appropriate, she went to speak when Ken reached out and reclaimed his wife's hands. Cass finally straightened, squaring her shoulders to both of them so she could observe them both through keen grey eyes at the same time.

"No need to be speechless." The teasing tone of his voice evoked a sharp memory of Jane from years ago. It was enough to lure a faint laugh from Cass.

"We'll show you to the table. Everyone there's not likely to bite," Lindsay continued, still smiling kindly. The two turned slightly, and Cassandra stepped up to follow behind the brunette's shoulder half a pace behind.

"I don't know," Ken replied, still teasing. His eyes warmed as he met his wife's inquiring gaze. "Between the two louts? She might want a stick to fend them off."

Cassie's steady stride faltered a moment and she wondered if the look of leeriness was plain in her expression. It must have, because when Ken looked back to her he broke out in an easy laugh. Lindsay reached out and patted her arm consolingly.

"Nothing like that, dear. I'm afraid that you're just going to be the young woman among us and you're quite elegantly set up." Appraising the younger woman with a frank look that Cass might have appreciated had it not been in her direction, she continued a moment later. "They'd be fools not to recognize that."

"Tom's anything but slow," Ken interjected with an easy laugh.

Suffice to say the walk to the table might have been a mile long and Cassandra wouldn't have objected. Seeing it loom ever more presently, the young woman wished she could have balked. Not being stuck seated at a table would have been delightful.

However in altogether too short of a time she found herself confronted with a seat that had her name set above the place settings. There were eight seats in total, and neither name on either side of her placard indicated the two that she had only recently become acquainted with.

It was disheartening but Cass wouldn't have expected her luck to be otherwise. For a brief moment she wished that she hadn't permitted the doorman to appropriate her shawl to a coat room. It would have been nice to have had something to fidget with.

Repressing the nerves that still bubbled beneath the surface, she glanced inquiringly at Lindsay again.

"Are we meant to sit now, or is there time yet before things start?"

The older woman smiled kindly at her. Gesturing to the seat marked for Cassandra, she linked her arm behind the small of Ken's back as he rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Go ahead and take a seat if you want. There's time yet before the dull part of the evening begins."

"I'm going to go get a drink with Lindsay," Ken interjected steadily. His attention flicked back to Cass for a moment. "Is there anything you'd like?"

Liquor. Lots of it. Anything that could make the reality of this evening burn away into a quiet haze and a dreamlike state. Tequila would work, Cassandra thought depreciatingly. It wouldn't do to make a waste of Jane's lovely attempt though.

She mustered a smile to both of them. "White wine would be lovely. I'm not much of a connoisseur so I put myself in your capable hands," she replied after a moment.

Watching the two fade into the depths of the room Cassie experienced the sensation of being cast adrift. Briefly she wondered if this was the feeling a soul incurred when they were left to float aimlessly on the ocean, moving further and further away from safe refuge. Inhaling deeply to steady her fraying nerves, she looked at the other name cards on the table.

Lindsay was easy enough to find, her name spelled out. The Kenneth Branagh beside her must be Ken, then. There were other names that jangled at her awareness but she couldn't quite press her finger on why.

It was a sensation that unsettled her. Political figures throughout the Cold War she could list by the dozens. However if anyone asked her about contemporary figures that weren't historical in bearing? She was beyond useless. It was enough to make Cass want to cover her eyes with a hand and groan.

Such a gesture would only smudge the smoky cat eye that Jane had painstakingly created. Moreover it would only make her look even more the fool.

Drawing out the chair that her hand had been resting on the back of, Cassandra sank down and sat slowly. The pool of dark blue fabric around her legs was a comfortable hush of sensation, although the slit up to her knee offered something unexpected at the same time. It was a juxtaposition that she could appreciate.

Seconds ticked by and it seemed to mute the thrum of noise about the room. Elegant marble might have made for an elegant picture and beautiful acoustics, Cass thought, but when faced with dozens of people and individual conversations it was apparent that the noise would be nothing shy of a dull roar. With her eyes fixed on the elegant script spelling out 'Cassandra Moore' she was able to tune it out.

How much time she spent that way the young woman couldn't have said. All that Cass knew was that it was interrupted with the radiating warmth of someone standing behind her.

She suspected that his hand rested on the back of the chair she was sitting in, though she didn't twist around to make certain. Spine stiffening in a fraction of a second, the line of her jaw firmed. Yet again she found herself surprised by someone. Frankly she might have expected as much, having been sitting with her back to some of the room.

"Alright, there?" The softly spoken male voice was accented, as Cass expected most of them to be in the room. Moreover, it had been kind.

Resting a hand on the table and using it as leverage to rotate her torso slightly to catch sight of the tall man behind her chair, she offered him a polite smile.

"Quite, thank you. Merely appreciating the room. It's quite lovely, don't you think?"

The man 'hm'd an agreement, although his eyes fell to the card behind her. The nuances of his expressions were much more subtle than either Ken or Lindsay's had been but she perceived an audible lightening of his nature.

"Cassandra? You're Jane's friend?"

It shouldn't have been possible to feel such relief so quickly, Cass thought. Inching the chair back carefully to avoid hitting the man with it she rose to her feet and maintained her smile at him. A passing humor found that again, she was taller than he although not nearly as significant as it had been with her other two newfound acquaintances.

"I am, but I'm afraid you have me at a loss -?" And she trailed off, wondering if he would take up the conversation hook.

He took her hand, grasping it firmly with a widening of his smile, inclining his head slightly.

"Benedict Cumberbatch. You can call me Ben, though. Jane was gracious enough to work on a project I was involved in last year. Her help was immeasurable."

As far as Cass was concerned that sounded like something that might make itself into a conversation she could enter. Memory briefly flashing back to where Jane had interrogated her about her historical knowledge of the first World War, she repressed a slight smile. Stepping away from the chair behind her legs, she edged out to stand before Benedict with a warmer expression now.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Cassie replied politely, reclaiming her hand from his firm shake. "Although I should wonder if you're so pleased to make my acquaintance, knowing what Jane might have had to say."

"It was only good, let me assure you," Ben commented. His effortless rejoinder finally permitted the sensation that she was finding her feet in the situation. "Although I suppose in the effort of honesty I should tell you that I'm not actually one she spoke with often."

Cass looked at him inquiringly. His head tilted over to a table across the room. As her eyes slid over to assess them, she thought that it rather seemed more likely. Young, eloquent men were not necessarily beyond the realm of whom Jane might have spoken with but the table of academics seemed far more likely. That, however, begged the question as to how she had managed to be seated apart from them.

It might have been her next question had he not volunteered the information himself.

"She was in their department. Someone called in a favor tonight, asked for a table switch." The thin smile was not particularly unfriendly, Cassie thought, but neither was it terribly expressive. While the lack of context cues was somewhat daunting it was, at least, familiar.

"I would argue with calling it a favor."

The unfamiliar voice was crisper than Benedict's had been, warmer and more expressive. While polite reservation was a realm of familiarity, the open acceptance that this voice offered was a foreign language.

Turning her head sharply to track this new individual, Cassandra offered yet another of her smiles in greeting. Her lips creased lightly though her grey eyes remained guarded as she assessed him on his approach.

Easily he was the tallest individual she had come across. Even in her heels she was forced to look up slightly to meet his eyes squarely. It might have been intimidating, had a warm smile not etched laugh lines at the corner of his eyes. Blue eyes gleamed in good humor and his brown hair was carefully combed back, though the tendency for unruly curls was still evident at the longer tips.

Glancing between he and Ben, she was forced to admit that both were disarmingly attractive. Moreover, it was easy to deduce that they knew each other.

The social veneer that Benedict had offered her had shifted into a look of familiarity. As the newcomer closed the distance between them, they clasped forearms, greetings apparently unnecessary between such acquaintances. It left Cass standing awkwardly to the side, unwilling to attempt to interject.

It was unnecessary.

Seconds measured the amount of time it took for him to release Ben's arm, turning to Cassandra. The warm greetings didn't fade even in the face of a stranger.

"Hardly a favor with company as lovely as this. No one told me that."

Jane, Cass thought furiously, what had you planned?!


	5. The Truth of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in finding out more about what I'm writing, you can find a bunch of supplemental information at the tumblr I've set up for this story: dfmtinfo.tumblr.com - I hope you find it useful!

November 25, 2011

As far as Cassandra Moore was concerned, there was absolutely no amount of liquor that could reconcile reality with what had apparently happened. The glass of white wine was a lifeline off of a sinking ship. Taking opportunely timed sips from the drink that Ken had finally returned with, she effectively attempted to dodge conversation.

It was easier than it ought to have been. The bulk of the individuals that had collected around their table seemed familiar with one another. At least, the majority of the men were.

Viewing the effortless interactions between them left her nearly breathless with want. It seemed so easy. The jocularity overflowed, even among the different generations of men. It was more than co-workers, Cass thought. They were friends.

Never before had she more acutely felt the lack of Jane's presence. The older woman was vibrant in a way that Cassandra couldn't measure with. It had always been easy to trail in her wake, to let her mentor dictate the conversation in such a direction that permitted her to jump in when she felt she could.

She had been left adrift in strange waters with even stranger company.

It was Lindsay who found herself standing next to the young blonde and seemed to understand her silence for what it was. Even as Cass regarded her half full glass of wine pensively, the older woman recognized what had happened.

Giving a kind look to her, Lindsay reached out to rest a hand on Cassandra's forearm. "It's challenging, isn't it? Getting a word in edgewise, or even following what they're speaking of. I wish Ken had delayed in returning. It would have been nice for you to speak with Tom before my husband took over with none of us getting a word in edgewise." She took a breath, assessing the younger girl's somewhat baffled expression. "Tom's the gentleman who had just begun speaking to you and Benedict before we returned. Tall fellow. Curly hair."

It was not necessarily the words that Cass responded to, but the compassion that she seemed to radiate. Meeting Lindsay's brown eyes she rather thought she found a familiar element of being overwhelmed within them. It was nice to know that she wasn't alone.

Pressing her lips into a rueful expression, the blonde rolled a shoulder lightly in a shrug. "I'm afraid I'm at a loss." The sentiment from their earlier conversation was earnestly repeated. "I.. shouldn't be here," Cass admitted quietly after a pause.

"Nonsense," Lindsay replied easily. "You'll never get to know anyone if you never give them a chance to say hello. Think of tonight as condensing all of those painful experiences into one evening. Rip the band aid off more quickly, so to speak."

Cassandra laughed softly as the tension faded from her figure. Her fingers unlocked from the stem of the wineglass as her grasp eased slightly. The sound rang brightly between them as it seemed she at last was relaxed enough to do so.

"It's certainly more economical if nothing else."

It seemed to be all the impression of agreement that Lindsay required. Cupping a hand behind Cass's elbow, she gently towed the taller woman forward toward the group that stood offside. Coming to a halt beside Ken, she drew Cassandra further forward into prominence.

"We're being terribly rude," she interjected when her husband paused in what he was saying. "I, for one, am loathe for it to continue."

Covertly observing the features of those around her Cass could see those who recognized what the brunette woman spoke of, and those who didn't. There was a slim older woman who acknowledged it quickly, as had the two young men that she had become briefly acquainted with earlier. Ken, however, and the two others that she remained unfamiliar with, didn't seem to comprehend.

She flicked her eyes over to Lindsay in a quietly inquiring expression. When the other woman inclined her head slightly, Cass interpreted that as affirmation to take the burden upon herself.

"I'm afraid I seem to be a rather last minute addition to your party." The comment was smoothly delivered as if to disguise the fact that she had been forced to swallow away nerves to eke out the words in the first place. "In such a light, I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I'm Cassandra Moore."

Names and salutations flew by faster than she could have hoped to keep track of but it seemed that taking the onus of obligation had smoothed things over.

Integrated into the conversation, largely by means of Lindsay at her side and Tom, standing across from her, Cassandra wondered if the rest of her night was doomed to such a polite affair. When Ken glanced at his wristwatch and commented that they ought to take their seats she rose her brow slightly. At least that meant the pre set menu of dinner would likely begin to be served. Food was yet another item to hide behind.

Watching a moment as Lindsay and Ken moved around to the other side of the table, Cass shifted to bring herself back to her chair. The clicking of feet and scraping of shifting seats indicated that the room at large had come to the unspoken consensus that the evening was about to truly begin. Tilting her chin up slightly the woman made to cross behind the table to settle where she was meant to be.

A warm arm encircled the small of her waist and the man's free hand came to secure her forearm gently. It was an elegant hold, Cassandra thought distractedly. Classical, almost, as she found herself to Tom's left. Startled by the touch, she looked up at him swiftly.

He simply grinned and continued walking around the table as if they had meant to walk the way together. "We are, after all, going to the same place," he said easily in that same kind voice.

Such an infectious smile required a response. Unable to repress it, Cass met it with one of her own. The shyer expression was enough to evoke a laugh from the man. Only seconds were required for the two long limbed individuals to reach the seats that they had been assigned. Taking the moment to glance at the chair to her left, she found the inhabitant of the seat to be one of the more familiar faces.

With Benedict to her left and Tom seated to her right, Cassandra Moore took a moment to question Jane's motivations yet again. She was unable to dwell on them for long however. Her gaze flickered back to Tom's in brief surprise as he pulled out the chair, waiting for her to seat herself.

Mustering every element of grace and dignity that she could find, Cass sank down to the chair, nodding her head in silent thanks. His fingers brushed her shoulder briefly in recognition before seating himself beside her.

Finally having the opportunity to do so, she looked all the way across the expanse of the table. It was wide enough that conversation with every one of the eight individuals seated there would be challenging. Privately, Cass was thankful. While she could now claim familiarity with them on basis of names, she did not know if she would have been able to get a word in edgewise with them.

When her courage seemed to be failing, Lindsay – seated on Tom's right – caught her eye and smiled kindly. It was a private attempt to bolster her spirits, but it was enough to remind her why she had come. It was a gift, Cassie thought. It was Jane's gift to her and after the lengths that her friend had gone to in the attempt of seeing her turned out in such a glamorous fashion she would endeavor not to waste it. Such efforts ought to be appreciated, after all.

She sipped at the dwindling glass of wine, eyes brighter now.

The hum of the room grew louder with the clank of silverware and the din of conversation rising. It seemed that, far from it, the dinner only encouraged the conversation around them. It was apparent at her own table. The individuals were largely engrossed in discussions with those seated most closely to them but when Ken leaned forward and caught her eye Cass straightened, giving him her attention.

"So what is it that you do, Cassandra?"

It was such a patiently paternal question that she nearly wanted to laugh at the irony. The query lacked the dry condescension that she was so used to, however. Her first instinct was to bite out a short reply, to try to guard the passion that meant so very much to her. Instead, Cassie carefully set the salad fork down, fingers knotting with one another in her lap.

"I teach," she replied confidently. Where the evening had left her cowed and uncertain, here was something she knew. "High School history.. I don't know the school system here, but I work with thirteen to eighteen year olds in various curriculum depending on what year they're in."

Weighted silence tasted sour on her tongue after. Those who had heard her answer were looking at her and had she been left to interpret the expressions, Cassandra might have called it patronizing. Their faces, however, were painted over with the familiar one of her father.

Instead of shifting as restlessly as she would have liked, she merely offered a slight smile to Ken, an eyebrow raising in quiet inquiry. "It isn't the most illustrious of careers," she continued, voice firmer now that she had found her footing. "But it's something I love."

It was Benedict to her left who replied first. "I can't see someone determining as a young child that they would want to be a teacher."

Far from being insulted, Cass only laughed. The light hearted response seemed to give permission to the others to enjoy the humor as well. Leaning against the back of her chair, the woman smiled ruefully.

"It was a lengthy process that's not really a very interesting story to tell." Glancing down at the fingers that had twisted together in her lap Cassie made the conscious effort to still the uneasy fidgeting. "The truth is, I loved the stories. And then I realized that I loved the students, too. The compassion necessary to do history justice, and to interact with children that age is astronomical. It's very rewarding. I love what I do."

The words evoked a response from everyone at the table. Ken raised his glass in a toast at that moment. "To work we love," he proposed.

"To work that moves us," Tom added, his words more somber than Cassandra had ever heard them before.

Regardless of the sentiment, everyone raised their drinks in return. Clinking the delicate glasses against one another, Cass smiled as Tom lifted a brow in her direction while he deliberately chimed his against hers. Ignoring the fluttering sensation in her breast at the look, she turned her gaze down to her wine, sipping delicately.

Now that she had taken the time to partake of food the drink was sitting more steadily in her system. No use making a fool of herself, not when the food was delightful, the wine was good and the company, so wonderful.

Courses passed with conversation that followed in vein. The revelation that she had been consigned to a table with actors was a moment that must have led to a particularly revealing expression. Lindsay had laughed while most of the men had grinned at the American woman's stupor. It explained why there was the nagging feeling of quiet familiarity where some of them were concerned.

At least she wasn't going mad. It was the only consolation that Cassandra could cling to.

"I feel so dense!" Her plaintive cry only evoked more laughter.

"Don't worry," Lindsay soothed. "Take solace in the fact that I, at least, am not of the acting profession."

The statistics were decidedly against her favor, Cass thought, although she made the decision not to share that thought. It would only be fodder for more amusement. While her tolerance was growing for the company, her ego wasn't certain it could withstand another bout as the subject of the humor.

As the chuckling subsided and conversation diverted itself among the group again, Cassandra looked at the table with a keener eye. Many of them, now, she found to be understandably familiar. It would have been a trial to attempt to place most of them, though. Her lack of media exposure had seen to make certain of that.

In some respects it was comforting. The nagging sense of familiarity had made her think she was losing her mind. Better to be unfamiliar than insane. As she laughed quietly at the thought Cass caught movement to her right out of the corner of her eye. Tilting her head slightly to glance at Tom who had fallen quiet as the seconds passed, she raised a brow inquiringly at his expression.

It was more a more introspective look than she had seen him wear previously. The broad smile and laugh lines had smoothed away as he seemed very pensive on something.

"Is everything alright?"

A more audacious question Cassandra might have been hard pressed to find. What right did she have to ask him such a thing? Still, she had been prompted by something more than simple courtesy. Curiousity provoked her, goaded her, and the intrigue couldn't be so easily assuaged with silent musings.

He met her inquiring stare with a fleetly startled look of his own. She supposed she deserved that. Making no overt venture of openness for the entire evening, it would come as a surprise to open up conversation so easily.

"Quite," he responded easily, smile slipping back onto his features.

It was something he wore well, Cassie thought.

"Although if you'll permit me," Tom continued, drawing her attention back to him. "I hope it isn't intrusive, but you spoke of compassion to teach history justly. I was curious about what you said."

Ah. That. Cassandra could feel her cheeks warming with something that she knew was embarrassment. Under the bright lights of the room the creeping flush would be impossible to ignore.

"History is stories," she began slowly, eyes falling to her lap for a moment, before lifting to look around the lobby of the museum. While most of the floor had been cleared for the event there were still pieces of art and statuary lingering around the perimeter. "All of the people and the decisions they made, the events they caused.. it's more than a date, or the name of a battle, or title of a document. There's a very human aspect of it that people forget. Even though these people may be long dead, there's a very emotional side to understanding what they did, and why."

She wondered if her words were as clumsy as they felt. To such an end, she looked back at him and shrugged slightly.

"Whether what someone did was right or wrong, we owe them compassion none the less. Whether we remember their names or not, we owe honor to their memory. I think it's something people all too often forget when they think of the events of the past. We judge too quickly."

Silence settled down between them and the air was smothering. Securing the glass of wine that had been largely neglected in favor of food, Cass sipped at the beverage for wont of some other response.

Registering quiet on her other side, she turned her eyes to meet those of Ben's to her left. His features were as impassive as ever but there was something introspective about his expression that offered the promise of deep thought. As if he only just became aware of what he had been doing, he nodded slightly to her before looking at Tom, past her.

Settling back in her chair to attempt to keep both of tem in her field of vision at the same time, Cassandra glanced from one to the other. Their glances and features altered subtly, quickly. It was as if a conversation was going on without words.

"Am I missing something?"

There was a tart bite to her tone that hadn't presented itself until then. Gone was the placid politeness, the passive insecurity. Instead, Cass was only left to wonder what precisely she was missing.

"Do you know much of World War One?"

Cassandra looked at Benedict as he asked. Her memory sharply pulled back to Jane asking that only hours earlier. Smiling ruefully, she inclined her head in affirmation.

"Then would you say it's fair to accuse humanity of terrible egoism? To have cavalry charges ridden in the face of artillery and tanks?"

Her lips pursed into a wry expression. One of Cass's hands settled on the table, tracing the length of a fork restlessly. She could recall the stories. She knew the statistics. But how could she hope to impart judgment on men who were so desperate?

The woman paused, eyes drifting back across the table. "I think that desperate times call for desperate measures, as cliché as it may sound. I wouldn't know which accusation to fall back on, first. I suppose it would be honest to say that it is in human nature not to respect an opponent until you've been bested by them."

A restless sensation stole over Cassandra Moore, then. Even without anything reflective she knew what she looked like. Elegant and coiffed, she must have presented a refined picture. A polite one. It was the sort of impression that she had rebelled against her entire life.

The days that ended in being smudged with ink from correcting papers or paint from projects were infinitely preferable to those that left her in such a presentation of artful creation. Cassie's fingers curled into her palm, needles pressing perfect crescents into the flesh. This was what her father had wanted from her. This was the life that he had wished for her and with every second that passed the stifling press of claustrophobia drew closer and closer about her lungs.

Smiling apologetically at both men as she seemed to have missed their reply, she ducked her head to the plate. At least it was the dessert course.

The end was in sight. It had to be. All throughout the courses of dinner individuals had stepped up to the podium and delivered speeches and awards. What more there was to be said, Cass couldn't even think. Once dinner had come to a close the evening would end.

She would find her way back to the relative comfort of Jane's home. Even though the older woman would likely be asleep already Cassandra could take apart the ensemble on her own. Only in the solace of such privacy would the blonde woman give into the sharp sting of betrayal, the burning press of tears. Until then, however, she would remain composed.

Offering a bright smile at Lindsay, she nodded animatedly in an attempt to appear invested in the words flowing around her. She would have to remain composed until then.

The flood of emotions could wait. They would have to.


	6. Dance for a Dream

November 25, 2011

Optimism was the fastest way to break a heart, Cassandra thought. Expecting the evening to be done as soon as dinner had been finished was a fool's dream. It would have been a short evening, although by anyone's standards dinner finally coming to an end at eleven was a stretch.

Cass watched pensively as individuals slowly began to migrate from their seats. Half of her own table had since vanished. Lindsay had shifted into Benedict's abandoned seat to have an easier conversation with the younger woman. Ken had taken his wife's former chair to speak with Tom.

Coaxed by the older woman into standing, the two slowly passed around the perimeter of the lobby. Glass encased artifacts were perused in a quiet sort of company. In that silence, Cassie glanced down at the brunette astutely.

"Why do you come to these?"

It was an invasive question, and one she regretted the instant the words crossed her lips. Biting her tongue in silent reprimand Cass looked away when Lindsay looked up at her archly. Shame heated her cheeks in a mortified flush and in the seconds that passed, the American shook her head, attempting to erase the query.

"Never mind. That was rude of me."

"Quite right," the older woman replied. It seemed that Cassie's own embarrassment at the inquiry had smoothed over whatever insult had inadvertently been given. "But you don't strike me as the sort who comes to these voluntarily either, so it's a fair question to ask you in return."

Her head dropped as she found herself thoroughly, albeit roundaboutly, chastised. Smiling ruefully when at last Cassandra found the courage to meet Lindsay's gaze, she nodded in acknowledgement to her response.

Letting her feet carry her to the next exhibit, an ancient piece of pottery, Cass stared pensively at it for a moment. "It was… a favor. At least, Jane phrased it as such. I've come to suspect her own ambitions in the plan. But. I suppose I just wanted the opportunity to be different." Inhaling tremulously Cassandra straightened her shoulders, pivoting slightly to look at Lindsay squarely.

"The chance to be someone other than Cassandra Moore. Not my father's daughter, not my students' teacher. In all my life I've always believed that Jane saw more of me. Saw me the way I wished I could be, instead of the truth of what I am. Perhaps tonight was that fruitless dream. Wishing to be that person. Letting her make me into that woman, if only for a night."

Her blue eyes trailed away, unable to meet the solid gaze that the older woman offered her. Instead, the slender woman dressed in blue took a step or two closer to the wall and turned her shoulders to rest against the cool marble.

"The clock strikes midnight, and the magic shall end. All of this will have been nothing but a dream. A beautiful dream, salve for the soul that never knew how to live."

Exhaling for a long moment, Cassandra fought to keep the shudder at bay. To be so frank with such meaningful sentiment was unheard of. It was, in many ways, absolutely mortifying. Her sheepish gaze timidly trailed back to Lindsay's but what she saw there took her breath away.

She understood. It was an astounding revelation that left Cass breathless. The words hadn't been dismissed. The sentiment, not discarded. There was validation there. There was compassion.

"I think," Lindsay began quietly, gentle smile still in place, "that you are more than you give yourself credit for, my dear. You speak so eloquently of empathy for your students, passion for your studies. There is life in you, Cassandra, though you may not know how to live it yet. Give your soul its chance. You may find that it surprises you."

Brought to a nearly watery laugh by the kindness of her words, Cass ducked her head in quiet acknowledgement. The slow, soft tapping of heels told her that Lindsay was moving across the floor towards her. When the older woman carefully tucked a stray lock of hair into the pins that Jane had so fastidiously set earlier, the blonde smiled in unspoken appreciation.

Resting her hand on Cassie's forearm, Lindsay squeezed gently for a moment before drifting away. "I'm here because I would rather spend an hour in an uncomfortable setting with my husband than be three hours on my own. I do it to support him, dear. It's a compromise I'm glad to make."

Finally straightening as the brunette woman seemed inclined to return to some other company, Cassandra wished she had taken the opportunity to reach out, to hold the other woman's hand, to thank her in the only, awkward way she knew. Instead, she watched Lindsay's retreating back.

"I'm glad I got to meet you." Cass finally managed to trip the words out, soon enough so that she was able to hear them.

"I hope that I see you again, Cassandra. Take the chance to enjoy the rest of your evening, won't you?"

The blonde nodded vigorously. After such words, how could she not? Although..

Cassie glanced around her once more. Most of the room's population had flooded onto the largely bare center floor. Strains of music resonated beautifully through the acoustics of the marble hall. It was diverting but as she continued walking along the wall, the exhibits were more likely to divert her attention.

It was when she was perusing what seemed to be ancient bronze work that a hand pressed against the small of her back. The heat of the touch was nearly scalding through the thin fabric of her dress and against the chill of the room.

Inhaling sharply as she straightened, Cassandra turned quickly in her surprise. Failing to find purchase on the slick floor with one of her heels, she found that her balance wobbled abruptly. What might have been a fall was caught as the hand migrated from her back to a firm grasp under her elbow. When she looked up, her wide eyes only met Tom's apologetic features.

"Sorry," he apologized easily, features smoothing into concern. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Finding herself firmly balanced on both her feet again, Cass swallowed slightly as she nodded, taking half a step back. The slight pressure on her arm indicated some resistance to letting her go though his fingers parted reluctantly.

"No," she demurred unsteadily. "Mea culpa. I shouldn't have gotten so distracted. I apologize."

"Far be it for me to let it remain your fault entirely," Tom replied with a light laugh. "Though running around with apologies might grow tedious." He took a step forward, closing the space between them.

Yet again Cassandra was pressed with the revelation of how tall he was. Walking with Lindsay had familiarized her with the necessity of looking down to meet someone's eyes or read their body language. Even with the other gentlemen of the table, she had found herself on equal footing with. Now, though, she was required to look up to see the changing expressions of his face.

It seemed that he was doing the same to her, given the way his attention was raptly fixed on her features.

Tom's hand reached out to lightly brush against her forearm again, securing her attention from her own mind. "What are you thinking of?"

She blinked at him, head tilting in silent query.

"Your expression. It changed so rapidly, it was quite diverting. You're very honest with your features sometimes… though others, you remain maddeningly indecipherable. It's very unique."

The heat that had yet to fade from her own awkward conversation with Lindsay remained settled in her cheeks. Wishing there were a way to turn her head to avert herself from his penetrating gaze, Cass bit her lip. Met with such frankness she did not know how to proceed.

Cassandra offered a pragmatic shrug, instead. "I was thinking about shoes," she offered after a moment's pause.

"Shoes."

Based on his tone of voice, she suspected he couldn't quite comprehend the jump in conversational topics. It evoked a surprisingly cheerful laugh from the woman as she nodded.

"Shoes," Cassie repeated again. "Wondering whether or not mine were going to end up being a wise choice by the end of the evening, or if I would come to regret them."

Tom took a step back, and then another. By the time his lean frame had completed the full strides, he was some feet away. The smile on his features was teasing though she didn't know quite how to translate it, particularly not as he let his eyes trace her figure from head to toe, and back up again.

"If I may say so," he began, playfully, "permit me to commend you for your excellent choice in footwear. You make quite a lovely picture. So much so, that I find it a shame that you're not dancing. Hiding away for a lucky few to stumble across isn't very sporting."

Cassandra demurred with a shy laugh, her own feet bringing her a few feet forward. It was not to close the distance between she and Tom but to stand next to one of the pillars that lined the perimeter of the room. Tucked beside it as she was, she had a view of the room at large, able to look out without being so obvious to any looking in return.

"They hardly seem to lament the loss," she replied tartly, nodding her head to the company that had commenced to mingling: conversation and dancing.

When Tom stepped beside her and offered her a hand, she felt the peculiar compulsion to take it. His grasp secure around her, she found herself led out back to the main floor. Even while a playful smile teased about the edges of his lips it seemed to Cass that he was intently attempting to gauge her own response. When she smiled gently in return, he eased.

The time it took for the pair to cross from the outskirts of the room to its center wasn't nearly enough for Cassandra to brace herself. A brief fluttering of anxiety seized her breath as she plastered a social smile over her face. Despite her attempt to keep it as covert as she could it became apparent that Tom had been aware of it.

Lightly squeezing the hand he held, he drew her closer to his taller figure. "Tell me, Cassandra, do you dance?"

Registering their position on the edge of the floor that had been marked off for dancing, she gave him a fleeting grin. "If the answer was no, would it change the outcome?"

"Likely not," he responded glibly, before pulling her further onto the floor. "I suppose the element of mystery is appealing in its own right. Not knowing what I might get from you.. shall you be elegant or uncertain? Composed or free? My imagination is running rampant."

Despite the awkward intimacy with someone so unfamiliar to her, Cass couldn't contain her laughter. It was a light sound, though when coupled with Tom's own shameless expression of humor drew more attention than it ought to have.

Drawing her hand up and out, his other arm crept around the small of her back. It was ingrained instinct that had Cassie resting her own hand on his shoulder, using his lithe figure for balance.

"I'm an uninspired dancer," she informed him tartly. "Merely sufficient."

Their steps fell into a rhythm that Tom dictated, his light footed prowess making it easy for Cassandra to follow suit. Feeling the swirl of her skirts around her, she thought that there was some merit in the historical restricting of dances to young girls. Looking up and into his eyes as she was, she supposed it would have been all too easy to fancy one's self in love with one's partner.

"Hardly." He picked up the conversation after a comfortable span of silence between them both. "You're quite lovely, you know."

"I'm afraid it's purely artificial," Cassandra replied absentmindedly, catching glimpses of other beautifully dressed individuals over his shoulder. "All created at the expert hands of a woman for a flight of fancy."

How long they had been on the dance floor she couldn't have said. Time somehow bled away in the encompassing presence of the gentleman who so dictated their steps. He made it easy to forget herself, Cass thought. He made it easy to dream. Wizened to the perils of such a thing, the American sought to steel her heart against such forays.

It did not suit to dream, she knew. One would only have to wake up to reality come the dawn, come morning. For all that one could hope during the nighttime, under the glittering lights, it would be so effortlessly crushed when the morning sunlight parted one's drapes and shone down the truth of things.

"You're quite good at that," Tom said abruptly. When Cass looked at him, confusion in her eyes, he smiled down at her. "Saying things that are maddeningly incomprehensible. And horrendously challenging to reply to without sounding like a complete cad."

When the lights above them dimmed briefly before brightening again, he groaned. On the heels of such a comment, the timing was impeccable. The staff must have been preparing to close the hall for the night.

Cassandra simply laughed at the theatrical expression of misery.

"It's a learned talent," she informed him, in an attempt to smooth over the potential for awkwardness. "My students rarely have an opportunity to talk back, at least. I'm afraid that I might have been projecting. I'm sorry."

Even as he let his arm slide away from behind her back, the one that held her own grew a fraction more firm. She lifted a brow in silent inquiry, even as he began to walk towards the lobby.

Left trailing in his wake, Cassandra was thankful she had worn her shoes. At least they were heels she was familiar with, and capable of finding her balance in. Elsewise attempting to keep up with the long limbed man would have ended in a disaster. Averting such a scene was a blessing.

Realizing what he had been doing, Tom slowed his step and glanced at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to hie off and drag you without a by your leave. You've a coat, yes? We can collect it from the check."

Cass blinked, attempting to process what he had just said.

"You speak words I recognize," she replied flatly, "but in that order I have absolutely no idea where you're going with this."

Delighted by the show of character that had largely been repressed by the atmosphere of the evening, Tom grinned again. It was peculiarly reminiscent of a boy knowing he was going to get away with stealing something out of the cookie jar, Cassie thought abruptly. It was disconcerting. That measure of self assurance ought to have been illegal.

"Well, I gather from our conversations over dinner that while Jane arranged for your ride here there weren't any plans in place for your return. Given your lack of a functioning mobile, I thought it might spare you the trouble of planning something or flagging a cab if you'd just share a car with me."

Definitely expecting to get away with it, Cassandra concluded as she silently handed the ticket indicating the hanger number for the grey shawl she had left at the front desk earlier. As other patrons of the evening exited through the large front doors, a harsh wash of cold November air washed over her.

Seeing the valet return with the familiar item she nearly trembled with relief. It was freezing and trying to speak with Tom through chattering teeth would likely not lend itself to eloquence.

Before she managed to secure the wrap, however, a long limb reached past her. Taking the garment from the young man, Tom stepped around Cassandra and carefully settled the cloth over her bare shoulders.

"Not likely to keep you overly warm," he mused with what sounded like measured concern. "We'll just have to make a run for it."

Cass only laughed, feeling as if she were being swept away in a tide too strong to fight against. Still. It was the principle of the matter that let her feet remain rooted to the floor even as Tom walked towards the doors, apparently anticipating any argument having been circumvented.

When he realized the familiar click of heels failed to accompany him, the man paused and turned.

His expression nearly elicited uncontrollable giggles from the woman. It was, at one, utterly perturbed and profoundly nonplussed. In return Cassandra merely lifted a brow.

"I do believe it's polite manners to ask instead of arbitrarily deciding how someone's evening is meant to go for them." The pointed words hit home, she thought.

Shamefaced, he closed the distance between them. His head was bowed in something that might have been embarrassment but Cassie wasn't likely to trust such an act from someone who could manipulate their features so readily. He reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, over the shawl.

"I apologize," Tom said readily. "I'm afraid I got ahead of myself. You must understand, I hold Jane in the highest esteem. Being able to meet someone she views of in the same light is something I was delighted to have the opportunity to do. Please, permit me to do both you, and she, the favor and give you both the peace of mind you deserve."

Silence settled between them for a moment as Cass's lips were pursed into a flat line. He really was quite terrific at the idea of an apology. Only a calloused fool would be able to remain unrelenting in the face of such an approach.

Her hand crept up to rest lightly over his atop her shoulder. "It's alright." Her words were a soft spoken absolution. "I'm afraid that I'm a little.. touchy when it comes to gentlemen attempting to assert their right to decide what I do with my life. It wasn't fair to you. You were only being generous."

Tom grinned again, breaking the awkward tension. "And a touch self serving," he admitted easily now that the difficult part had been addressed. "After all, I'd be crushed if I lost the opportunity for such intriguing conversation so soon."

Conflict thus resolved, the two statuesque individuals turned their attention to the crush exiting the font door. It seemed that the flickering lights had done their job and the entire conglomeration of individuals who had attended the event had promptly decided to leave. Catching sight of a clock hung on a wall, Cassandra found herself unsurprised by their abrupt departure. The time read half past one, already.

Fatigue had yet to win over adrenaline and anxiety but she knew that once it did, she would be miserably exhausted herself.

"Ready to make a dash for it?"

Resigned to both shoving herself through the throngs of people and running to attempt to escape overt exposure to the chilly night, Cassandra nodded. Even so, her lips twisted into a wry expression. "I'm afraid I'm completely in your hands on this one. I haven't the slightest clue where we're going. Endeavor not to lose me, alright?"

When he took her hand in his with a grin, a flutter of concern twittered within her breast. Opening her lips to remind him that she was restricted to movement within four inch heels and therefore was likely not as agile as he, she found the warning a fruitless endeavor.

Cut off before she could even begin the sentiment, the long legged man strode across the lobby to the front doors. The considerable height between them both made it relatively easy to escape the people around the entry. However as they pushed into the outdoors, Cass hissed sharply on an inhalation.

"Christ it's colder than I remembered it being hours ago," she groaned, jaw tensing to attempt to prevent chattering.

Still walking with a long step that required an awkward half-jog with her shorter strides, Tom laughed. "I'm afraid we men do have a rather considerable advantage in eveningwear in winter."

Giving him a flat look that told him that he could be amused after she didn't feel as if she were being frozen, the man had the audacity to grin. "It'd be a terrible loss if you ladies didn't dress so elegantly, though. It cuts through the tedium of an evening, you understand."

As they closed in on a midsized sedan parked on the side of the road, she deduced that was their location. The engine sputtered to life and the lights came on as it seemed a driver turned the ignition. Cassandra only hoped that it would be warm on the interior. Refraining from replying to the man, her grab for the door to throw it open was beaten by his own longer reach.

Pulling open the door of the car, Tom released his hold on her hand at last and stepped aside. It was a polite deferral, permitting her to enter first. Too cold to care about the awkward shuffling over seats, Cass sat on the edge and slid over, tucking the fabric of her dress under her legs as she went to try to give the taller man more room for when he ducked in.

Doing so and closing the door behind him, he grinned at her. The exertions had brought color to his cheeks, she realized absently. Given the cold chill that settled over her own face she surmised her own were equally flushed. She was permitted the time to make such conclusions as he leaned forward, giving the driver the address that sounded remotely familiar.

Jane's flat, then – but she had to wonder, how did he know it? Expression turning pensive as she hit on that question, Cassie glanced over at the man again.

Seeing his legs awkwardly bent in an attempt to avoid encroaching in her own leg space, Cassandra laughed awkwardly. Toeing off her shoes, her feet were brought up to tuck up under her seat.

"To the tallest goes the leg room," she offered, humor lacing the words. "It's a fair deal, considering I normally exploit it."

Tom laughed, settling against the leather back and let his legs unfold further. For a tall woman, Cass took up a relatively minimal amount of space when she so chose. Resting her hand beside her while the other held onto the door as the car pulled out from the parking spot, the woman fought to find the balance that her feet on the floor might have offered.

"Very considerate of you," Tom teased back, adjusting slightly so he was more situated in the corner. "Although it seems like you're going to experience your own measure of troubles for your kindness. Come over here a bit – you'll have more room."

And, Cassandra surmised, would be closer to him in the process. She couldn't fault his logic though. Leaning against him as he offered would both give her the warmth she craved and the stability necessary not to tumble out of her seat at any abrupt stop or sharp turn.

Cautiously unfolding her legs to take up more of the seat space, Cass would have been content merely to press her shoulder against his. However, as if he had foreseen her timidity in the venture, Tom's arm wrapped around her waist as she went to settle back, and was able to pull her closer and thusly secured her against him.

While she had half a mind to chastise him for the move, she couldn't ague that it was easier to remain balanced. And regain her body heat. Dressed in an evening jacket as he was, it seemed that Tom hadn't experienced much response to the biting cold. In comparison, Cassandra with the keyhole cutout and diaphanous skirts, had been exposed to the biting wind.

Relaxing against him slightly as the seconds ticked by without a word being said, she let her eyes drift out the window again. Moments crept past and she could feel the tension ebbing from her body as Tom's own warmth seeped in. Growing more lethargic with the calm of the late night hour, Cass found relief in the fact that she couldn't look up easily to see what his face was doing.

Was he grinning? Was it a quieter expression of thought, as she had observed from him over dinner? She could not say.

"Thank you." The words were so low that they might have been a whisper in a different setting. In the back of the car, though, it was easy to determine what she had said.

No response seemed to be forthcoming, for which Cassandra was grateful. Letting her eyes shut as she contemplated the turn of events for the evening she could not have anticipated fatigue and exhausting slamming into her as warmth stole over her form.

How much time had passed, neither of them could have said.

By the time Tom looked down and told her that she had nothing to thank him for, however, the American woman had slipped into the soothing embrace of sleep. Noticing it, the man only smiled.

There was something beguiling to see a woman so composed as to portray herself with such an air of comportment and so guarded as to refrain from letting much of her thoughts slip by, so honest in her sleep. Her features smoothed over into a peaceful expression. It reminded him of someone younger, someone with hopes and dreams that had yet to be tested by the world.

Tom was brought to mind of the words he had heard Cassandra Moore speak to Lindsay earlier in the evening. She had said that perhaps, for the night she could be the woman she wished to be, instead of that which she was. Leaning down and embracing her more carefully in the arm around her waist, he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.

Perhaps it was the life she had yet to live that made it all the more poignant, Tom thought as his own blue eyes watched the blur of lights outside the window as they passed through London. It was her dreams and her very real awareness of precisely what she had made herself into.

Letting his free hand drift down to resettle the shawl to cover more of the bare skin on her arms, once the gesture was completed he let the arm rest over her lap. In a sharp moment of recognition, Tom thought that it would be harder than he realized to carry her into their mutual friend's flat and let her free of his embrace. How very peculiar.


	7. Compromising the Heart

December 6, 2011

The first full week back in school would always be a horrendous exercise of endurance. Cassandra knew that. However, rationality did little to help console her flagging energy. A fatigued eye glanced at the clock that blinked digital red numbers at her from the back wall of her classroom. 4:23. Having been in the building since nearly seven o'clock that morning, the hours had dragged at her. Nine and a half hours was exhausting.

Looking grimly at the assignments she had yet to grade and the prompts for tomorrow's work still to complete, the young woman whimpered. Resting an elbow on the desk, she cupped her cheek in her palm. Lethargically using her free hand to move the mouse to her computer, Cass slowly attempted to gather her senses again. A distraction from the tedium would help.

Emails it was, then. The bureaucracy waited for no one. Department heads demanded updates, notifications required responses. Swiftly signing into her email, Cassandra paused. The inbox was as full as she had expected. Nothing of note seemed to demand her attention.

However, the bolded message indicating an unread email from Jane was her solace. Perhaps reading that would soothe her unsteady nerves and permit her to finish her work after. Clicking into it, Cassandra settled back to read it.

 

_Cassie,_

_I can't tell you how great it was to have you stay. I know it was a short visit and we might not have gotten quite as much time together as I would have liked, but it was wonderful to see you again. You need to take better care of yourself, you hear me, girl? You spend too much time looking after everyone else that you forget that you matter, too._

_Thank you again, for being such a good sport about going to the charity dinner. I know it's not your scene. While you may not believe me, let me say again how beautiful you were. Not that you aren't normally, but. Well. You understand what I'm saying. It was quite a change and I hope it reminded you that you don't have to be stuck in something you don't want to be in._

_Good riddance to Richard, anyway. He sounded like absolute deadweight with more flaws than the leaning tower. You deserve better._

_Speaking of better, damn you for coming home so late! If I had half a brain in my head I should have had a camera at the ready. Unfortunately no pictorial evidence exists of you dressed as you were. Moreover, it means I can't show you how precisely you looked when you came in._

_Disheveled. Delightfully so._

_Oh stop it, girl, don't give me that look._

Cassandra started. The chatty tone of the email had made it almost possible to forget that she was reading it. Jane's voice rang clear in her head with each word and she was stunned to find that she had been giving the computer screen a censuring look as she progressed through the message. Damn. She was altogether too predictable. 

_I'm just kidding, anyway. You weren't disheveled. In fact, you seemed delightfully cozy. Is now a good time to say that I'm surprised that someone actually managed to carry you? Up a flight of stairs, no less? You're a long meg. Though I guess that's the perk of tall men._

_Seriously, Cass. Tom Hiddleston? I had it set up that you'd chat with Ben. Though I suppose that's a part of your peculiar charm. Even in the wake of insurmountable odds you still manage to do it your own way. Mind you, I have no objections to this development. He's a wonderful young man._

_Anyway. I know that you'll consider this largely irrelevant so I'll stop now. Don't be a stranger, you hear me? Give me a ring. Make plans to come back soon! It was fun._

_Love you, kiddo._

_Jane._

 

Cassandra refrained from a watery giggle at the completion of the email. Scrubbing her face with a fatigued hand, she quietly logged out of the system and then shut down her computer. If Jane's nostalgic message was enough to make her weepy then it was clear that home and food was necessary before she could attain productivity.

Shuffling the papers together into their respective folders, her desk was tidied up. Shoving them into her messenger bag and leaving the room after shutting off the lights and locking the door, Cass made her way out to her car. The long coat was a refreshingly stalwart piece of armor to keep the cold at bay. Michigan in December made no promises to be kind.

As she ducked into the vehicle, she glanced up at the sky. A low level of grey clouds promised snow. Typical.

Letting the engine idle as the car warmed up, Cass placed her bags in the front passenger seat. Reclining again into the driver's seat, the young woman's mind wandered.

Thanksgiving had been bizarrely fantastical. A charity dinner. Celebrities. A night out that came from a faerie tale. While she hadn't reverted to a maid come midnight, it had ended when reality once again intruded.

To be fair, Cass thought, she couldn't actually remember how it ended. According to accounts – Jane, having been told by Tom himself – she had fallen asleep in the car. That much, she recalled. Feeling comfortable and secure after a night of adrenaline sleep had been nearly inevitable.

The surprise was what happened after. Apparently Tom was familiar enough with Jane to know which flat was hers beyond the address to the building. Her friend had delightedly told Cassandra what had happened after. He shouldered his way into the building, carefully cradling his delicate package. One arm supported her shoulders and the other was looped under her knees. Cass's own head had lolled securely onto his shoulder.

Normally a light sleeper, Cassie couldn't fathom being so exhausted as to have slept through that.

Never the less, Tom had carried her into Jane's apartment and into the guest bedroom when Jane had permitted him entry. It had been an endearing sight. At least, Jane's account of it relayed it as such. How much of that she believed, Cass couldn't quite say.

Groaning in embarrassment, Cassandra let her head fall forward again to thump lightly against the top of the steering wheel. It had not been one of her more adult moments, so to speak. Being carried in and put to bed? Like a child? That always spoke well of one's ability to carry oneself with comportment. Not.

Shifting the car into drive, the teacher made to head to her parents' home. She had promised her mother to stop by on the way home from work. No doubt the older couple would wonder what had kept their daughter until nearly five.

Then again perhaps not, Cass thought sourly. Her father may very well have still been at work. Cheered by the prospect of potentially beating him to the home at least, she was only deflated minutes later when the car in the driveway indicated she was, in fact, the last one to arrive. Moreover, her sister had deigned to show as well.

That was hardly reassuring. Swallowing thickly to brace against the impending challenge of a family dinner, she reluctantly left the security of the car. All of her instincts dictated she turn and run now. The excuse of homework to grade and projects to create might have held over!

Loathe to flee like a coward, the twenty four year old slowly let herself in the front door. Smells wafting throughout the home indicated her mother was already close to done with her work in the kitchen. Navigating the rooms by scent, Cass bent down to hug the smaller brunette from behind.

Bussing an affectionate kiss against her mother's cheek, Cassandra squeezed lightly as Susan Moore turned to embrace her youngest child.

"Cassie! I'm glad you could make it," she said warmly.

Cass only smiled in turn. Releasing Susan and taking a step back, a keen eye noted the already completed dishes set out along the counter. Most pressing was the matter of dessert. The cloying scent of molasses evoked an unconditional response from her taste buds. Unable to resist, the blonde reached out and snagged a cookie from the countertop.

Biting into it cheerfully and giving her mother an impish grin, Cass nodded to her as she ducked into the other room. Finding Samantha would either be effortless or impossible. Such was the tendency of her older sister. Today, however, it seemed as if she were being obliging. The familiar silhouette of her older sibling was reclining on the couch bent over what seemed to be a crossword.

"Mom will end you if you finish it for her," Cassie commented from the doorway.

Watching Sam look up and roll her eyes at the youngest Moore, Cassandra only snorted.

"Geeze, don't shoot the messenger." Raising her hands as if in mock surrender, the blonde's analytical stare didn't drift away. It had been several months since her sister had been in town. Despite the duration of time, it seemed that Samantha was doing well. Perhaps it was because of her time away. "I'm glad to see you, though. You look good."

"You too," Sam replied shortly, turning back to the crossword. "Careful. Dad's annoyed about the thanksgiving thing. Just so you know."

Cassandra groaned. As if there had been any reason to stay for Thanksgiving. Samantha had been in Boston, and her parents had gone to Arizona to visit Susan's brother. Extended family made holidays challenging, Cass thought. Her decision to skip the 'family thing' should have been perfectly understandable. At least, Susan had understood. Joseph? Not so much.

Spared from the agony of prolonged anxiety, it was her father's voice that summoned them both to the kitchen table with the proclamation that dinner was ready. Cass shut her eyes and drew in a long breath for fortitude. Exhaustion hadn't ebbed and it left her even more ill prepared than normal to cope with the tension that was likely to occur.

"Come on," Sam said.

Opening her eyes to find that her older sister had stopped in the doorframe with her, Cassandra offered her a weary smile. "Lead on," she remarked dryly and proceeded to follow her to the table.

Dinner went, largely, as well as Cassandra might have anticipated. The progression of events hadn't changed in years. For as far as her memory could extend it had always been like this. Samantha engaged their father in conversation on current events. Cass could occasionally chime in. Susan carefully narrated the conflicting views and made certain nothing escalated too dramatically.

While the element of familiarity was comforting, it left her feeling suffocated. Glancing over to observe her mother seated to her right, Cass remained quiet for a period of time. Susan was equally pensive. Her attention was fixated on her family as a whole, brown eyes lovingly assessing each and every figure seated at the table. It was as if her mother was attempting to engrave the memory of each and every one of them permanently into her mind.

When the plates were cleared and silverware finished clinking, Cass quietly rose to begin moving the dinnerware to the sink. Susan moved with her youngest daughter. In tandem the two women systematically tidied the kitchen. Only by luck did Cassandra see her mother's hands shake as she attempted to lift a heavy platter. Reaching over to take it from Susan, Cass pressed another kiss to Susan's cheek.

"I got that, Mom," she murmured quietly, bringing it over to the sink.

Once everything had been cleared away both women returned to their seats at the now bare table. The conversation between Samantha and Joseph hadn't flagged in their absence. Trying to catch onto what they were speaking about now, Cass reached over to link her fingers with her mother's.

It was a quiet expression of affection from the normally undemonstrative woman. Despite being twenty four years old, the esteem she held Susan in was apparent.

As if just now realizing that his other daughter had reclaimed his seat, Joe looked up and stared at Cass. It might have been a considering expression had he been capable of it. Cassandra knew better, though. He would blurt out whatever was passing through his mind in a second's notice.

"Who did you see over Thanksgiving again? Richard's family?"

Cassie cringed. While Susan had known of the split it had been something she intentionally neglected to share with her father. Inhaling slowly, a patient smile crossed over the blonde's features. Her head shook slowly.

"No. Actually, Dad, we split just before."

Joseph's hand thumped down on the table. It rattled the wineglasses that had been left. Used to such expressions of emotion, none of the three woman started. Instead, Cass merely met her father's eyes levelly. He was, she thought, as intimidating as he had ever been. From thirteen to twenty four nothing had changed. She might be taller, he might be greyer but the bright blue eyes that stared unforgivingly at his youngest daughter were the same.

"Damn," he cursed. "Why do you always do this, Cassandra? You were both starting to go somewhere."

Reining in the temper that fought to free itself, she only shrugged. Patience was the answer. Losing her temper just because he rose his voice wouldn't do any of them any good.

"We weren't working, Dad," she replied steadily. "He wanted me to give up things I wasn't willing to compromise on. It-"

"That's your problem! You never compromise. Take, take, take and you can't give!"

She swallowed.

The criticisms were ancient ones. Echoes of them resounded through years of memory. Too unrelenting. Too stubborn. Too uncommunicative. Too uncompromising. Too exacting, too unforgiving, too precise, too unyielding. The burn of tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Still, Cass was able to blink them away.

Susan squeezed the hand that Cassie still held. It was silent comfort, even though her mother wouldn't attempt to mediate this. Returning the affectionate gesture, Cass's attention remained riveted on Joseph.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." It was the only reply she could give, though it was poorly received. That much was apparent from the burst of color in Joe's cheeks, his lips narrowing as they were pressed together. She swallowed again.

"Don't patronize me," he snapped back, voice raising. "Just because you don't know what you're doing-"

At that, Cassandra revolted. Slamming her chair back as she stood back, her bright blue eyes stared unrelentingly down at him. Her jaw was tensed in an attempt to keep from biting out a cutting retort.

"It's my life, Father. I'm sorry you don't agree with it but I did what was right for me and I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to belittle me over ever decision I make."

"I wouldn't have to if you made the right ones for a change!"

"Joe," Susan softly admonished. Samantha, at the other side of the table, remained quiet. Cassandra bitterly thought that perhaps she was just glad it wasn't her turn. He would have gotten 'round to Sam's choice of running an art gallery for a profession sooner or later.

As both of her parents rose to mirror her own action, Cass looked from one to the other. Her mother's quiet voice had curbed the raised voices but the sentiment was thick in the air.

She released Susan's hand as she stepped away from the table.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Dad. God knows, I've never been able to live up to your expectations before. Why should now be any different?"

The bitter words concealed the depth of hurt that Cassandra felt. Inhaling unsteadily at the rush of adrenaline from the confrontation, she stepped over to her mother. Bending down to embrace Susan tightly, she rested her chin on her mother's shoulder.

"Sorry, Mommy. Love you. I didn't mean to start anything."

Her mother squeezed her around the waist tightly in reprimand. "It's not you, sweetheart. Don't you dare think that. This isn't your fault. You're a bright, beautiful girl and I love you so very, very much. Do what makes you happy."

Unable to repress the tear that escaped one eye at her mother's whispered words, she turned to press another kiss to Susan's cheek. There were no words for the emotion that bubbled up in her heart. There was no way to express the thanks she wished she could to her mother. Stepping away, Cass nodded curtly to Samantha.

"Nice seeing you again, Sam. Give me a call if you've got an afternoon. Dad, I'll see you later."

And without so much as a farewell the blonde woman strode back to the front door, collected her shoes, coat and bag and proceeded to leave. It was only once she reached the security of her car and had pulled out of the driveway that Cassandra permitted the flood of tears to stream silently down her cheeks. Years later, she thought. Even years later, her father still had the capacity to break her heart.

What stung even more was the knowledge that nothing she did would ever make him happy. Why couldn't she stop trying? It had to hurt less – hurt less, than this.


	8. The Perils of Happiness

_December 19, 2011_

Cassandra lazily broke off a piece of the chocolate chip muffin on the table in front of her. While she wasn't precisely interested in eating the chocolate remained an irresistible lure. Nibbling at the section, she looked across the table to her mother. It had been more a week since the disastrous family dinner. While Cass had managed to avoid running into her father or sister in that duration of time it was with Susan that the youngest member of the Moore family maintained contact with.

It explained why the two women were out to lunch today. Well. More like greatly delayed breakfast as far as Cassie was concerned. The Monday was the first day of winter break. She wasn't expected to be back in the classroom until January. Until, she thought rather nostalgically, the New Year. It would be a nice change. Still, sleep deprived and exhausted the blonde had slept in well into late morning.

Meeting Susan at a coffee shop just past noon was a convenient excuse for food. For, she thought with a grin, good food. Not necessarily healthy, but the childish portion of her psyche couldn't turn down the promise of a chocolate chip muffin. It went well with coffee. That was her excuse.

"Are you going to play with your food or eat it?"

As far as rebukes went it was an incredibly mild one. Susan Moore had always been talented at that. Looking at her mother sheepishly, Cass fluttered a sheepish smile in her direction.

"I can have my cake and eat it too, can't I?" It was a juvenile retort. For both of them it was the allure of these lunches. Without the pressure of unjust expectations and a longstanding history of tension the interactions had always been more free. More honest.

Blowing a kiss to Susan, Cassandra pointedly made the effort to lift the muffin and take a delicate bite of it. Unfortunately the effort was spoiled by the smear of chocolate that remained on her cheek. Giggling at the helplessness of the endeavor, she lifted a napkin to her face to wipe it away.

"I suppose you could," Susan replied quietly. Abruptly the tone of the conversation had grown more somber. "But that would require you to be happy with the cake and the eating. Sometimes, Cass, I wonder if you know how to do that."

It was instinctive to snap out a retort. However, Cass retreated into her own mind, defensively. Her mother wouldn't say such things to be unkind. Rationally, she understood that. The truth stung all the more, though, for the validity of the fact. She swallowed thickly.

"Oh, Cassie." The small table between them was no barrier as Susan reached forward to rest a hand on her daughter's cheek. "I love you. I just want you to be happy. I wish you could be.. but I wonder if you're not afraid of being happy in your own right. It's alright to be selfish sometimes, sweetheart."

Leaning her cheek into her mother's achingly familiar touch, Cass smiled tremulously in Susan's direction. "You're going to make me cry," she replied dryly. "No one likes me when I cry. I look ridiculous."

Susan Moore just rolled her eyes. The similar characteristics between mother and daughter were eerily familiar. Their mannerisms mirrored one another's without even meaning to.

"Don't change the topic, Cass." She watched as her daughter straightened at the firmer tone of voice. "I know that you weren't happy with Rich. I'm glad you left him. But I just hope that you can find someone to be with that makes you happy. Not that you're happy by pleasing them, honey. Someone who sees all of you, and cherishes even the things you can't. Someone who can protect you, even if it's from yourself. That's the kind of happy I want for you, Cassie."

For some reason, Cassandra was left with the sensation that this was no longer a conversation. It was instruction, and significant ones at that. Her large blue eyes locked onto Susan's brown ones. When her mother's hand fell from her cheek, Cass reached out to catch it in her own. Squeezing it tightly, she pressed her lips into the knuckles at the back.

"I love you, Mommy," she whispered quietly. Emotion was rife in the words. "I do. I'm sorry for doing this."

Twisting her hand free from her daughter's, Susan pressed a finger against Cass's lips. "Hush, sweetheart. Don't say you're sorry. Not for caring too much, not for loving too deeply. You give everything or you give nothing. It's just the way you are. I love you for you. Not who I wish you would be. I just want you to be happy. Promise me that, Cassie. Promise me you'll be happy."

Cassandra could only nod.

Silence between them after that wasn't uncomfortable. While Susan went back to sipping at the decaf coffee and nibbled at the half of a ham sandwich purchased earlier, Cass continued to pick at the chocolate chip muffin. It was a comfortable sort of quiet. Neither felt the need to fill it with superfluous conversation.

At least, not until Susan looked up from her coffee. A mischievous grin that seemed better suited to her daughter was affixed to her expression. "So, I actually heard from Jane the other day."

Cass froze, a piece of muffin halfway to her mouth. Deliberately closing her lips and putting the food back on the plate, she looked up. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. There was only one thing that tone could mean and it wasn't something that she wanted to consider.

"I didn't do it."

Susan was briefly stymied by the unexpected response. There was something so childishly petulant in the approach that both women were reduced to giggling. Optimistically, Cassandra wondered if she had gotten away with the diversion. When her mother fixed her with another unrelenting look though she knew it wasn't going to work out so easily.

"She actually sent me a picture."

Picture?! Shock colored Cassie's features as she stared at her mother in an expression that was akin to horror. Her mind raced. Picture from what? Had Jane lied? Did she get a photograph of when… well. That? Or was it something more mundane?

Realizing how badly her poorly created poker face was betraying her the blonde straightened in the seat. Wiping her features of emotion, Cass lifted a brow in polite interest.

"I'm glad that you still talk with her," she managed to choke out in a bland voice that couldn't relay her thoughts. "Jane's always good to speak with. And I hope you.. enjoyed the photography? I didn't know Jane was very into picture taking, actually."

Susan only cackled.

"If she hadn't told me anything, honey, I still would've known something was up. You can hide things from your father but you never could from me."

Cass pouted slightly. Picking up the neglected piece of muffin she promptly devoted herself to finishing it. If she were eating she couldn't stick her foot further in her mouth, Cassie thought sullenly. Susan just laughed again and reached out to pat her daughter's wrist consolingly.

"You look lovely. I won't lie and say I wish you had told me about it, but she told me that you went out and ended up meeting some people. Anyone you'd care to tell me about?"

It had to be a trick question.

Either she answered yes and ended up confessing to something that her mother didn't know, or she answered no and Susan would know she was lying. Buying time by chewing her current (and unfortunately, last) bite of muffin Cassandra stared at her mother consideringly. There was no right answer.

"I plead the fifth," she ended up saying uneasily, unsure of where her mother was going to go with it.

Susan just laughed again. For all of the anxiety of trying to find a right answer, Cass was put to ease from the sound. It was the sound of a lifetime. It was a sound that evoked memory. If she just closed her eyes, that laughter could take her back a decade. The smell of the cookies they would have been making, the teasing and the smiles. That was the place where her mother's laughter took her.

Even in spite of the trepidation of their current conversation Cassandra's demeanor softened. The defensiveness seeped away as Susan turned around in her chair to throw away the trash from their meal. The look she gave her daughter was one of a silent inquiry. From the way that her mother's head tilted towards the door, Cass understood it immediately.

Rising from the café chair, she waited for Susan to shrug on her coat and grab her purse. Having collected those artifacts the older woman made to walk past and walk out of the door. As she passed by her daughter, Cassie wrapped an arm around her mother's waist. It was side by side that they walked out of the small establishment.

Even though the brace of Michigan's December air was a shocking chill after the relative warmth of the shop Cass didn't let her mother go. The half hug meant too much.

"I'm just teasing you," Susan remarked at last as they stopped on the sidewalk in front of the older woman's car. Cass herself had parked in a lot across the road. "I just hope you had a good time, sweetheart. I'm proud of you for doing something that makes you so uncomfortable."

It was painful that her mother knew her so well. Despite the humor of the conversation Cassandra had to swallow away the ache in her throat and blink back the sting in her eyes. Bending over to rest her cheek on Susan's shoulder, she hm'd a quiet agreement.

Susan abruptly moved away from her daughter. It was not to escape the arm that she had slung around her waist, but to turn herself. Once both of her own arms were free, she wrapped them tightly around Cass's figure and held her daughter tightly. Even though it required both Cass to bend over slightly and Susan to rise up on her toes, she pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter's cheek.

"You were smiling that night, Cass. It's been too long since I've seen that smile. I know you don't want to spend Christmas with your father and I. Go. See Jane again. Be happy."

It really wasn't fair how easily her mother could sense what she was going to ask even before she had the opportunity to, Cass mused. It might have been a sullen train of thought had her mother not always been capable of doing it. Magic. It was the magic that parents were meant to possess.

Feeling Susan's arms around her squeeze more tightly, Cass returned the affectionate embrace.

"Thanks, Mom." She didn't know if there was anything more she could say. Not to that. Not in the face of such unrelenting generosity. As the two women embraced Cass's mind drifted to the things that her mother had said to her earlier.

She straightened slightly and looked down to meet Susan's eyes. "You too, Mommy," she whispered quietly, a young expression on her features.

Her mother just looked at her, unable to follow where her daughter had come from with that. Cassie shook her head slightly, realizing that no one could have been possible to follow the jump in her train of thought.

"You, too. You be happy, too. Don't give so much up to make other people happy. You deserve to be happy."

The look that Susan gave her was indescribable. It was one measured by years of experience. By years of love. It was affection and compassion, quiet exasperation and fondness. It was compassion.

It was love.

"Oh, Cassie," she whispered quietly, arms an unrelenting vice around her daughter. "Watching you grow has been the greatest honor I could have ever asked. The laughter you've given me over the years.. the love you've brought to my life. You are joy, sweetheart. You are my joy. I have known you, and watched you grow, and loved you every moment along the way. My cup runneth over."

The sting that Cass thought she had kept at bay surged back with unrelenting determination. Unable to keep at bay the strength of emotion, a tear crept from one of her eyes and trickled down her cheek as she smiled weepily at Susan.

Her mother just stepped away, releasing Cass as she reached up to wipe the tear from her daughter's cheek. "No tears, sweetheart. Not for this. Not for love."

Cassie nodded, unable to speak through the constriction in her throat.

Understanding this, Susan let her hand drop from Cassandra's cheek to her shoulder. Squeezing it lightly in a silent farewell, she ducked into the car they had been standing by. Watching her mother start the ignition Cass wondered why her emotions were so tender.

But she hadn't said farewell. She hadn't said….

Leaping off the curb before her mother fully pulled out of the parking spot, she rapped sharply on the driver's window. Susan rolled it down, eyes wide in something that might have been panic.

Thinking it only her mother's concern for what had changed so abruptly, Cass leaned into the car and kissed her mother's cheek.

"I love you, Mommy," she murmured fondly as Susan broke out in a fluttering laugh.

"I love you too, Cassie doll. I love you too."

As Cassandra stepped back and let her mother drive out of the parking lot, she could only watch the car leave. How long she stood there on the pavement in the freezing temperatures and the biting wind, she couldn't have said. Staring after the car, Cass shook her head sharply to try to chase away the sentiment that rose in her breast.

For the life of her, she could not understand why _I love you_ sounded so much like goodbye.


	9. Breath of Fresh air

December 22

At the rate things were going, Cassandra Moore was going to become an expert at booking last minute flights. As far as she was concerned, the sole saving grace of it all was that traveling in the two or three days before a holiday was generally significantly less expensive. Given the magnitude of miles she was racking up she'd take any consolation she could find.

Being capable of managing flights at odder hours also enabled her some flexibility in her schedule. As she pulled into a driveway, the woman glanced at the clock.

9:07. It was too morning as far as mornings were concerned, but planning anything just before Christmas was a trial. She was lucky that it had worked out at all. If catching up with her friends and being able to deliver them their gifts before she left for London required the sacrifice of waking up, so be it.

Despite this resolve, Cass's jaw cracked as she yawned.

The townhouse that loomed before her was familiar. Given the long hours of girls' evenings that had been hosted there, it should have. Locking her car behind her, the tall blonde shambled up to the door and even before she knocked, was ushered in by a series of women.

It was the shortest, Amanda Mitchell, who embraced her first. "Sorry for the rush job, Cass," the oldest woman remarked drily. "You really know how to make something happen."

Cassandra had the good grace to flush as she shrugged awkwardly as she was released. Glancing over at the other two women, she laughed abashedly.

"I'm the one who pushes this to happen and I'm still the last to come. Damn, I won't be living this one down. Thanks for having us, Amanda. I'd've had it at my place but it's definitely not central."

The shorter woman with light brown hair just laughed. "I was looking for an excuse to kick the husband out of the house. Joe's miffed but he'll recover. It works."

A taller woman with dark brown hair snickered at that. She caught Cass around the waist in a loose hug before releasing the blonde woman. "I told you not to be a stranger," she chided the teacher.

"Jeez. I set this up, didn't I, Kelsey? Give me some credit!"

No credit was given, Cassandra concluded, given that Kelse's response was to reach out and ruffle her friend's hair. Pouting slightly, Cassie turned to the last of her friends and lifted a brow.

"Scolding? Reprimands? What reparations do I owe you, Sara?"

"Stop being melodramatic," the woman replied promptly. "We all have insane schedules. And holidays are really short for hell and we all have crazy in-laws to contend with, so it was nice of you to think of us."

Well.

Wind thoroughly taken out of their sails, the four women retreated into the house to reach the kitchen. On the table there were presents stacked in a pile. The size of it was enough to surprise Cass. Grinning as she placed the bag with her gifts for her friends on the table alongside the others, she turned to look at Amanda.

"So, how are we going to do this?"

The shorter woman tilted her head in inquiry. Kelsey, however, had grasped onto the line of questioning immediately. Resting her hip against the counter as she leaned, she looked at the room of women.

"Well," Kelsey ventured, "I'm all for waiting until Christmas to open mine. I don't know about you but I have no faith in Jake's ability to get me a present that I'm actually going to like."

Sara grinned. "What, no ring?"

Snorting at her friends' teasing, Cassandra kept her attention on Amanda who shrugged. "I'm alright with waiting. I think Cass should open hers, though. The rest of us can hold off until Christmas but it'd be insane for her to try to pack them just so she could open them on Christmas Day with the rest of us."

Sara nodded vigorously, a knowing look slanted over to the shorter woman who was speaking. "I see what you're doing. You went fairy godmother on us again and bought things that we not just like, but would be useful."

Cass laughed with Kelsey, as Kelse migrated over to the table. It only took a matter of seconds for her to sort out the three gifts that were marked for Cassandra. The boxes were all of varying sizes, and it was enough to intrigue the blonde into wandering over, poking at them with interest.

Kelsey swatted the investigating hand sharply. "Be patient!"  
Yelping in shock as she was so abruptly rebuffed, Cass gave her friend a maligned expression. "I'm so abused," she mourned. From behind her, she could hear Amanda scoff.

"So mistreated," the woman agreed as Sara just laughed at them all.

"There's an order you have to open these in," Kelsey explained.

Putting information together in a matter of seconds, Cassandra glanced at all of her friends with a measuring stare. The shameless expressions that met hers gave them all away, and she could only laugh.

"You all went in on a theme again, didn't you."

It wasn't a question. Their faces told her that she had guessed right.

Accepting the box that Kelsey shoved into her hands, Cass shook it in investigation. The weight didn't rattle in any indication of what it might be, though. Carefully stripping the exterior of paper, she lifted the lid before looking over to grin at Kelsey.

The cashmere sweater dress in a soft dove grey, paired with matching knee high socks made her shiver in anticipating. "You're bribing me," she replied plaintively as she carefully put the box down. A long arm reached out to hug Kelse tightly, however. "And it's absolutely beautiful. Decadent."

"You just have to promise me you'll wear it out instead of just around the house," her friend replied mildly. The stipulation was met with a pouting expression, but even in jest Cassandra couldn't keep the ruse up for long as it melted away into another grin.

"Fine, fine. I swear it – blood oath, life of my firstborn, yadda yadda yadda."

Rolling her eyes at her friend's response, Amanda reached over to shove the largest box at Cassie. "And before you tell me it's too much, your sister went in on these too. She told me to tell you that you didn't get to expect anything more."

"Sounds like Sam," Cass replied dryly, adjusting her hold on the box as she found it heavier than she had anticipated. "If she helped you with this, should I be afraid?"

"Yes," Sara replied emphatically as she laughed. "Although we're not."

Peeling open the lid of the box, Cassie could see why. The suede leather boots were a faux attempt at winterwear, though were far from practical for wet weather. They were, however, absolutely beautiful – and she wondered if she'd be able to move quickly in them at all.

"I begin to see the appeal. I can't catch you to kill you if I'm wearing these."

"Quick. Hit her over the head. She's onto us!" Amanda's dry reply had all four women deteriorating into fits of laughter. Cassandra put the box down and walked over to Amanda, slinging an arm around her shoulders in an affectionate hug.

"I won't kill you. Or try to tell you it's too much. But I cannot guarantee that you ever get pictorial evidence of this outfit coming together!"

The snicker that Sara couldn't quite hide had Kelsey and Amanda giving her wry looks. When Cass turned to look at her as well, she only grinned smugly, handing her the smallest box.

"I can't help it that my gift is one you can actually wear out in public and not get people's eyes falling out at the sight."

Not at all relieved by her friend's assurances, Cassie peeled off the bow and paper, before divesting the box of its lid. Fine tissue paper couldn't quite disguise what lay underneath them. She made no attempt to repress the squeal of joy that bubbled past her lips.

Grabbing the leather gloves out of the box, she pulled them on to check the size. The sleek cut permitted them to lay elegantly against her skin and stop just above her wrists. Not bothering to remove them, she made to hug Sara though it was foiled by her friend ducking out of arms' reach.

"Yes, yes. You're happy, you love them, I'm the best. We understand."

Nearly forgotten from her post by the table, Kelsey balled up a wad of wrapping paper and chucked it at Sara. "No, you just have the best taste in gloves so you got to buy that part of the gift."

It bounced off Sara's head who made no attempt at dodging. Amanda however, caught the paper that had been lobbed in her direction seconds after. "If you all are going to terrorize each other and trash things, we're taking it out of my house. My mother in law will have a coronary if it's not clean!"

Sara paused. "Wait. That's a bad thing?"

Glancing at the piece of paper still in her and then to her friend, it seemed that Amanda elected to join them. Throwing it at Sara, it, too, bounced off her head.

Cass just sniggered.

"Alright point well made. I know that I need to run and finish packing before my flight tonight and I will be sure to take all of these things-"

"Good," Kelsey interrupted with a wide smile. "Because Jane and your mother went in on another part of it that you will have to wait til Christmas to open."

Cassandra paused. Looking at the boxes, she wondered what else to this outfit someone could have bought. Shoes, socks, a dress, gloves.. the winter wear was stacking up.

"If you all conned my mother into buying me lacy underwear I will end you," she threatened after a moment's pause. If she were lucky, it would be a selection of scarves from the older women. Her dignity couldn't take the other alternative her mind was jumping to.

Amanda choked at Cass's quip as Sara grinned. "Don't trust us?"

"No!"

Again, every woman in the room laughed. However the noise faded as they dedicated themselves to tidying up the room. Shreds of paper and strips of ribbon were quickly picked up and relocated into the bin for recycling. The boxes had their lids replaced and they were neatly stacked so that Cass could easily carry them out.

It only took a matter of minutes. The combined efforts had made it a quick affair. Standing next to the small stack of boxes, Cassandra glanced up at her three friends with a rueful smile. Her remorse was palpable in her expression.

Even as she went to speak, Kelsey cut her off.

"Don't," the woman said quietly. The jovial nature of their earlier interactions had faded. "Don't feel like you should stay."

Amanda seamlessly picked up the thread of conversation. "We all have our.. things. I've got Mike, Kelsey has Jake. Sara's got Chris. Families.. We've all got that. No offense, but your options suck. Don't feel badly for going someplace where you can be happy."

Sara grinned in an attempt to lighten everything up again. "We know you love us most anyway. We get to have Christmas before Christmas because of it."

Put that way, Cassandra's guilt abated as she along with the other two were bundled out of Amanda's house. One by one they filed into their cars. The last to pull in, she would have to pull out first to let everyone else out. Before she did however, she leaned out of the window and waved so that the other women could see.

She didn't need to say goodbye. They understood that it wasn't a farewell. It was a reprieve. A breath of fresh air.

Serenity was rarely destined to last for long, however. Her Bluetooth jangled in her car in notification of a call. Glancing at the dash and seeing the name, Cass wanted to swear. Richard blinked back at her.

Why the hell was he even calling? Instinct was to drop the call. Curiosity dictated she pick it up to see what he could have possibly wanted. She bit her lip indecisively as the ringing continued resounding throughout the car's cabin.

"You've reached Cassandra Moore, how can I help you?"

Damn. She had picked it up. Cursing her innate desire to know what was going on, the woman fell back on formality and an attempt at ignorance to curb her ex's forays.

_"Cassie baby! I'm glad you answered, I was afraid I'd go to voicemail."_

The cloying voice of Richard Jackson evoked the response of gritting her teeth. Why she hadn't left him earlier, Cass couldn't actually say. Having lived life without trying to please him, though, had given her a breath of fresh air. It was freedom to be herself.

"Richard," she replied coolly. "I've been busy. What can I do for you?"

_"Actually, I was checking in with you about Christmas. I was thinking that we-"_

Oh no. No, this wasn't going to work. At all. Swallowing back the bile, Cassandra went on autopilot as she navigated the roadways to her own home. More and more, she owed Jane and her mother.

"We, nothing, Richard," she cut him off coolly. "I'm actually not going to be around for Christmas."

_"Oh. Are you doing something with your father's family? If that's the case I can always tag along and we can have the evening of to ourselves-"_

"London, actually," Cass replied shortly. Cutting him off didn't seem to have any affect on his mannerisms. "I'll be out of country. Even if I weren't, I'm not interested in spending time with you. We broke up. We're through, Richard. Done."

Silence from the other end of the line made the hair raise at the back of her neck uneasily. It was an instinctive response she couldn't control. She more than halfway considered simply hanging up.

_"You're making me angry, Cassandra. You know better than to-"_

Enough was enough. A low hiss of fury broke past Cassie's lips as Rich dared to infer that what he felt, mattered. That he could dictate based on his whims and his temper. It was enough.

"I'm quite sure I don't give a damn. Don't bother calling, Richard. We're through. I won't be answering again."

And hanging up on someone had never felt so exhilarating.


	10. A Time to Believe

December 25

Despite being an adult, Christmas had retained its magic. The commerciality of it all lacked appeal. The use of it as a tool to be employed for bringing extended families together also failed to draw her. However, as Cassandra remained furled in a leather armchair staring contemplatively at a small Christmas tree, she couldn't say that it had ever lost any of its magic.

The lights gleamed among the artificial evergreen boughs, twinkling brightly. They reflected dimly off of the wrapping paper of the presents beneath. It was an alluring sight, a tempting one. The entire picture lured one's senses to buy into the scene.

Shutting her eyes and letting her head recline on the back of the chair, Cass permitted her mind to slip away. The smell of cinnamon and molasses lightened her heart. She was pleasantly full from an elegant dinner earlier, and well amused from spending the entire day watching Christmas specials with Jane.

Now that it was evening, though, it was time for gifts.

Jane had retreated to the kitchen to prepare tea for both of them. Left waiting in the living room, Cassandra's mind had wandered. The time difference meant that it would be just past noon at home. She had already called and spoken to her parents and her sister. Emails had been sent to her friends back home as well, expressing wishes for them to have the best of days.

The evening was for her. Jane had put it that way rather bluntly. They would do seasonal things, and have a delightful dinner, but the evening would be when both women could sit and relax and simply dwell in the warm feelings of the holiday.

All things considered, Cassie thought it was a rather good plan.

Opening her eyes as Jane pressed a warm mug into her hands, she offered her friend a sedate smile. Even though it wasn't much past seven in the evening the skies outside were dark. Light from the streets barely trickled through the drapes that Jane had drawn. The room was warm, intimate and familiar.

It felt more like home than her own apartment back home, or her parents' house. Realizing that sentiment felt like a stinging betrayal to her family.

"Come back," Jane entreated quietly, sitting on a chair next to Cass's. "Come back from wherever you've gone. You're here with me, now."

She always knew just what to say. Carefully putting the mug on a side table between them, Cassandra leaned forward. She used a long leg to nudge a heavy box out from underneath the tree. Reaching out to pull it close to her, she lifted the wrapped box and handed it over to her friend with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Jane."

The box of books was well received. They were new, they were used, there were classical fictional texts and obscure historical ones. There was an element of charm in the gift that had taken so much time to put together. Jane realized the effort her young friend had put into it, and even while the gift itself was touching, the meaning behind it mattered even more.

"Thanks, kiddo."

Quiet settled between them. Soft crackling of wood burning in the fireplace was the only sound that disrupted the silence. The fire popped and hissed occasionally, the bright light all that the small room needed in conjunction with the Christmas tree's decorative bulbs. Dimly lit, Cass thought she might have lolled off to sleep if something didn't happen soon.

Peaceful, content – there was something to be said about a Christmas like this one.

Disrupted from her serenity, Jane pressed a flat box into her lap. The weight and form was familiar to Cassandra. It was eerily reminiscent of those that her friends had given her days earlier. Shucking paper off of it and peeling it open, she stared in shock at the jacket laying there.

"Your mother gave me the sizes, I ordered it," Jane explained as her young protégé gave her a bewildered look. Cassie looked so much like a young child, achingly hopeful, that the constriction around Jane's heart was nearly painful.

"Susan planned it all, actually. Something pretty, soft and elegant.. your friends were nice enough to find the dress. And then something sharp, something stronger. It's you, Cass. We wanted you to be you. Every bit of you. Not just the comfortable ones."

_Oh, Mommy._

More than ever Cass was glad that she had thought to give her mother a call. Even if it had been a brief conversation amidst aunts and uncles, she had been thinking about her parents. It had mattered. And even though she hadn't been able to say thank you, she was fairly certain that Susan would know none the less.

Uncertain of what to say, she looked at the jacket for a long moment before her eyes turned back to Jane. She grinned impishly.

"I told the girls and I'll tell you – I'm just eternally thankful that it's not lingerie."

Jane just rolled her eyes and reached over to swat Cass on the shoulder. A grin that was just as puckish had settled on the older woman's refined features.

"Why bother?"

Cassandra gaped at Jane for a very long moment, attempting to process what had just been said. Blinking, she shook her head. "I'm pretending you didn't say that," she replied at last, tone plaintive.

The older woman just snickered. "Merry Christmas, Cassie. I'm glad you like it."

Cass just nodded vigorously, fingers still tracing the treated leather reverently. She might have done it for hours had someone not rung the doorbell, disturbing her reverie. It was a shock to her system, not knowing who could be stopping by on the evening of Christmas. Even though the furor of family dinners would have subsided by now, she would have expected everyone to recede into a quiet sort of stupor, recovering from the holidays.

Looking sharply over at Jane, Cassandra looked just soon enough to catch the edge of a Cheshire grin as the woman walked towards the door. "Sorry, I didn't mention it earlier. I was expecting someone to drop by. I know you won't mind."

The last time Jane had that expression, Cassie herself had been landed in an uncomfortably elegant dress at a dinner with people that she could google and turn up pages on. The revelation was more than slightly disconcerting.

She carefully put the lid back on the box containing her leather jacket. It was all in the attempt to keep from fidgeting nervously, of course. By the time she had straightened and sat back up in her chair, the voices from the doorway – Jane's mellow alto and a deeper masculine one – had drifted closer. She looked up and saw Jane, followed by a familiar lanky figure, walking into the living room.

"Merry Christmas," Tom offered with a kind smile.

Cassandra just stared. For the longest moment, she was rather certain that her eyes weren't registering correctly. It was only when Jane cleared her throat and Cass turned to gaze accusingly at her that she knew it was all very – terribly – real.

"You too," she managed to eke out inarticulately.

And all of the sudden she realized what a picture she made. The cashmere socks came above her knees and the cowl of the sweater dress that her friends had given her draped warmly over her chest. Curled up in a leather chair that was too big for her slender figure, she suspected she looked like a child playing dress up.

Carefully unfolding herself from the seat Cass made to stand. It was slower than normal, given she was carefully assessing to make sure that the socks hadn't ridden down, or the dress crept up. Swallowing awkwardly she took a step towards Tom, his cheeks ruddy with the cold air.

"That is, Merry Christmas to you too. I hope you've had a lovely day," she managed to say more smoothly this time, smile still awkward.

Jane, behind them, had ambled over to her box of books. "Glad you both remember one another," she murmured as she bent down to inspect the titles on the spine. "I won't feel guilty saying that I'm going to go hole up for a few hours and peruse my loot."

Damn. Double damn. Cassandra couldn't have found a better gift to give her friend that enabled Jane's convenient disappearance. Registering the blonde's narrow eyed stare, Jane only waved cheerfully at both of them as she retreated further into the home. It left Cass blinking up at Tom, awkwardness growing by the second.

"You weren't so tall last time," she blurted out after a moment. She flushed. Shoes. Right. Swallowing, she edged to the side and with a gesture of her arm, invited him further into the room. "Sorry. Wine does excellent things for my ability to hold normal conversations with people."

Tom laughed and it was that same slow, easy sound that she recalled. He settled down into the chair that Jane had vacated when the bell rang. Uncomfortable being the only one left standing, Cass furled back up to take her seat, rotating to face him.

"It's lovely to see you again." He had apparently elected to ignore her relatively awkward start, which worked for her.

She smiled slightly. "I'd say the same but honestly, I can't say that I was ever expecting to see you again."

Tom looked at her for a long moment. The veneer of society had been stripped away. The anxiety that accompanied her from those experiences, too, were gone. It left a very different impression of Cassandra Moore – but one that he couldn't help but favor.

"I can't say I was expecting that." It took some time for him to reply. His words, however, evoked a broader smile from the blonde.

"That's me," Cass teased. "An absurd conglomeration of heels, bluntness and wine. Although I'm short two of the three tonight. Sorry about that."

He lifted a hand to stay the apology, smile creasing lines about his eyes. "I'm fairly certain that if you had fair warning you would have been armed and ready."

It was enough to evoke a laugh from Cassandra. She shrugged her shoulders, the thick braided rope of hair falling behind her back with the gesture.

"I'd like to say I'm more polite than that – but to be honest, I think we've already passed that. Thank you, by the way." She paused, and he gave her an inquiring look. "For.. after that event. I didn't mean to fall sleep in the car. Very mature of me, I'm afraid. Thanks for seeing me back here."

"Much as I'd like to be a horrendous, villainous cad and take advantage of opportunity I'm afraid that morals are tediously restrictive."

Cassie blinked. Processing that statement would require more of a capacity for thought than she had at the moment. Her baffled expression must have broadcast clearly to Tom, because he just laughed.

"Actually, I intruded with reason."

This sounded like something she was more familiar with, Cass thought. It evoked a nearly suspicious look from her, one that he was quick to assuage. His hands lifted again, as if to banish her concerns.

"Does it make it any less alarming if I say Jane thinks it's a good idea?"

"No!" She needed better friends. Or, less meddling ones. Laughing at her sharp protest, she only shook her head slightly, slumping over the arm of the chair. "You have to realize, Jane has a track record that's frighteningly long for getting me into things I have no business being in."

It hadn't been the response that the man would've liked. That much was readily apparent to Cass as she saw his smile tighten slightly. It wasn't temper. She thought it looked more like unease.

Guilt rose and twitched uncomfortably in her breast. Without realizing it, Cassie reached out and brushed her fingers lightly against the back of his wrist. "I won't run away before you tell me what this reason is, though. I'm afraid that my curiosity will be the end of me."

Her attempt at self demeaning humor was well received as Tom eased slightly. Relaxing herself seeing the change, she offered him a ginger smile.

"Well," he ventured slowly, carefully picking his words. "I'm actually expected somewhere in about two weeks. Jane's said you're free that evening. I was wondering if you'd like to attend with me?"

Cass simply stared.

"I wouldn't be so brazen as to assume you'd call it a date," he rushed to assure her but a curt gesture of her hand stopped his words. He leaned forward as she straightened slightly.

"Somewhere is unhelpfully vague," she pointed out flatly. "Given the caginess about the where, I'm less concerned about the when."

He laughed.

"Damn. Well, I was hoping you'd agree before realizing but I can't say I'm disappointed you didn't."

Cassandra slotted that one aside, too. She'd have to muddle on that later along with his other maddeningly ambiguous comments. He was speaking English. Very pretty English, with a delightful accent and a warm voice, if she were to be honest. However despite the language being the same she had the uncomfortable sensation of only comprehending small fractions of it.

"I'd like you to come to a premiere with me. It's actually the movie that Jane consulted on. I won't lie – it's going to be a fairly big to do, but you've met some of the people who will be there already and I'd love to have your company."

Cassandra's memory chose the inopportune moment to dredge up her most recent conversation with her mother.

 _You were smiling that night,_ Susan had said. _It's been such a long time since I've seen that smile._ What was it about this place that made it happen? She had initially given the credit to Jane. However, even Jane deferred some of it to the company that Cass had met.

It was confusing, she thought unhappily.

"I'd like that," she found herself saying, the answer beyond her own comprehension. The smile she was rewarded with made it seem all the more sensible. Laugh lines didn't etch at the sides of his eyes, and his teeth didn't gleam at her but the quiet press of his lips that turned up at the edges seemed all the more genuine for its subtlety.

"Great! Good, good, I'll just-" He paused, cutting himself off. Laughing, he shook his head, covering his face with his hands for a moment. "Sorry, I just. Well. I think I was expecting to have to convince you. Not that I'm upset! I'm thrilled you'll come. That's excellent. Thank you."

Cass pressed down the bubbling amusement that sought to raise its head at the demonstration that she wasn't the only one prone to nervous talking. Letting the hand that had gently touched his arm earlier press against his wrist again, she shook her head with a light smile.

"Chalk it up to a Christmas miracle and don't question your good luck," she advised drily.

Tom rotated his hand swiftly, locking his fingers around hers gently. The touch shouldn't have been so personal, she thought. Her mother did it, and it was one of the few gestures of affection that she partook of regularly with her friends. His fingers were longer, though. The palm, wider and rougher. It was unfamiliar – and at the same time, all too comfortable.

"In the Christmas spirit," he began with a grin, "let me take care of your outfit for the premiere." Her alarmed look elicited a series of chuckles that were infectious. "No, no. I won't be solely responsible for it. No worries, there. But you shouldn't have to worry about it when you're doing me such a favor."

Put that way, Cassandra couldn't find any room to argue with it. Acceding with a shy nod of her head, she let her eyes trail back to the fire as it popped unexpectedly. A shower of sparks trailed up the air into the flue, dancing in the swirling eddies of the airflow.

At her side, she saw Tom looking in the same direction.

"It really is a Christmas miracle," he agreed quietly, thumb trailing over the back of her hand. "I hadn't thought to even hope, honestly."

Cass shook her head slightly. It was easier to have this conversation gazing at the fire, she thought. There was something so pressing in his bright stare that evoked a desire to be.. honest. Honesty, that would lay her soul bare before him.

"Life is full of magic," she murmured quietly, settling more comfortably against the arm of the chair that was closest to Tom. "Full of wonder, if we let ourselves be moved by it."

He laughed softly at her side. "If we permit ourselves to see it."

Perhaps that's what made this so special, Cassandra thought. It was Christmas, and the magic of Christmas could never fade.. but for the disbelieving cynics, those who didn't want to see it at any other time of the year, they could not escape it today. Not now, when the world seemed so bright and beautiful and so very full of promise.


	11. Start of Something Good

January 5&8, 2012

When it fell to an older woman give a twenty-something advice regarding preparation for a red carpet affair, life was truly tragic. Despite such a sad state of affairs, Cassandra had been infinitely pleased by Jane's sage approach to the event. Had it not been for her friend certain things would have slipped her mind entirely.

"What do you mean do I have my legs waxed! I'm from Michigan! It's winter! They won't see the light of day for another six months at least!"

Jane had only rolled her eyes and booked an appointment at the local salon.

Several hours and minus several hundred hairs later, Cassandra was grudgingly thankful. Even though Tom had said that he would take care of the details there were certain things that were personal. Personal things that were meant to be kept personal.

"Look at it this way," Jane had remarked with a wicked grin. "You're prepared if he does see them. It's better to be over prepared, anyway!"

Cass could only stare at her friend and shake her head in mute horror. The third time spending time with a man was certainly not when he was meant to see.. things. Although as far as the thought went, legs were tame enough. The waxing specialist had gotten uncomfortably more personal despite the blonde's blushing stutters.

"Here now," the older woman from the salon had said soothingly. "It's alright. No need to fuss."

And the American had subsided in her protests. The pedicure and manicure were infinitely more pleasing to endure, as had the rather impromptu haircut. Even though stylists would take care of her the day of the premiere it would help to give them a clean white board to start out with.

At least that had been the logic behind Jane's plans.

They were plans that swiftly went to pieces the early afternoon that the bell to Jane's apartment rang. Both women were in the kitchen in the process of making something that hopefully would turn out resembling cookies.

Cass, for her part, had her reservations about their success. Hearing the sound chime through the flat though, she glanced at her friend with a raised brow. When Jane shooed her to the door, the blonde merely twisted her lips in a grimace.

Her bare feet padded quietly against the floor as the bottom edge of her sweatpants covered the tops of them. "It's generally common courtesy for the property owner to answer the door, you know," she scolded over her shoulder as she pulled open the door.

She was underdressed.

It was the only thought that she could actually compute and hold onto for the longest of moments. Looking up at Tom who looked dashing in sleek jeans and a leather jacket, Cassandra abruptly felt ridiculous for the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. Blinking at the man who waited patiently at the stoop with his hands in his pockets, she shook her head slightly and edged to the side.

"Sorry, Jane's currently more of a mess than I am so I was elected responsible for the door."

"That would explain the flour," Tom remarked as he stepped in. Cass shut the door behind him before flushing abruptly. Flour? Before she could manage to scramble to a mirror to try to find how much of a cake she had made herself into, he reached out and swiped his thumb against her cheekbone.

"There. That, at least, is taken care of."

Life had apparently made it a law that she was meant to be at a disadvantage around this man. What karma this was for, Cassandra couldn't identify. Swallowing slightly, she stepped back and pressed her shoulders against the wall of the hallway.

He was bare handed and not dressed with any particular care. Such facts made it apparent that they would be leaving someplace before they got ready for.. well. Whatever the night entailed. Cassie was fuzzy on the details, a fact that had only made her unsettled nerves more displeased as the hours of the day had ticked by. Since breakfast the idea of food made her stomach roil uneasily. Ignoring the generally accepted wisdom that meals were typically a good thing she had thrown herself into inane activities with Jane.

Such as making cookies. Rather, trying to make cookies. She was rather sure they would come out as a failure but it had been worth the attempt.

"So," she managed to muster, eyes looking up at Tom in an expression of forced composure. "What precisely are we doing? I don't really.. know the time frame for these things."

He smiled down at her, lines etched into his face at the expression. "Sorry. I have been rather unhelpfully vague, haven't I?"

Cassandra's look was rife with agreement though it seemed that she wasn't quite able to manage to voice her agreement. Capable of interpreting such a transparent expression, he couldn't contain his laugh. The sound was infectious and it eased the tension that had been settling in her muscles through the span of the day.

Much relieved in the aftermath of her own giggling, she looked at him ruefully. Tom took it as a prompt to continue speaking.

"Lucky cad that I am, my prep team will only take about an hour to get me situated. We'll be headed over to Leicester Square around seven. The showing starts at nine, but there's the elbow rubbing and socializing beforehand."

Cass was temporarily diverted by the idea of only requiring an hour to prepare for an event. She gave him a moderately disgusted look in response. "Talk about one of the grand injustices of life," she muttered disgruntledly. "I'm going to hazard a guess and say that whatever's in store for me will take somewhat longer than an hour."

Considering the very nature of hairstylists she knew it was inevitable. Precisely how much time, however, she had no notion of what to expect.

Amused by her show of sullenness, Tom had lifted his hands much in the way of a young boy trying to pass the blame on to someone else. The playful look in his eye destroyed the attempt entirely.

"Well, yes," he admitted slowly as if gauging her response as he spoke. Remaining impassive, Cassandra was giving him all of nothing to work off of. "They've got a dress ready for you but they may need to do last minute alterations. And the.."

Cass got the idea. "Who-sits and what-sits that we women subject ourselves to for the attempt of looking pretty." Hearing him attempt to describe that would take place would have been moderately amusing but at the same time there lay thin ice. She wasn't sure she could have managed going through an entire evening knowing he had intimate knowledge of precisely what his team were doing to her.

Better to think that he had merely passed the task to them and they had planned it all on their own. Flushing slightly at the thought, she looked down at the streaks of flour on her t-shirt. Even if it were only going to be discarded for another outfit later, she couldn't go out like this.

"Er," she began awkwardly when Jane came through the hall behind them. The older woman adroitly assessed the situation before taking control of it. Cass found it vaguely reminiscent of how she had managed a classroom of more than twenty teenagers. The talent hadn't been lost in her years of retirement.

"Right, then," Jane said brusquely. "Tom, you can come into the kitchen. There's tea or coffee if you'd like. I wouldn't recommend the cookies, they're more like concrete at the moment. Cassie, you can go clean up. Once that's seen to you'll both be off, yes?"

Pleased that someone else had stated what was so transparent and yet so painfully awkward to try to approach, Cass nodded vigorously before disappearing through another door. Her cheeks burned as she turned into the guest bathroom, change of clothes and towel in hand. Setting them on a shelf and out of the way, she shucked the outfit that had become a casualty of baking and ducked into the shower. Suppressing a yip of displeasure at the cold water, she applied herself to cleaning the flour out of her hair and scrubbing it from her skin.

Skin that was almost bafflingly smooth, Cassandra thought in passing. At least there was the perk of waxing. No irritating stubble to contend with for quite some time. While she wasn't certain it was enough to make up for the discomfort of the experience it certainly had paid dividends at the moment.

The shower was almost sinfully short. Glancing at the mirror, she lamented the long hair that would take an eternity to dry without any outside interference. Wrapping it in a towel as she swiped the water off of her long limbs Cass was once again consumed with the thought that this was not a wise idea.

Despite her better instincts however, after fifteen minutes in the bathroom she was found emerging from it as she wove her hair into a braid. Wet as it was, at least this would prevent it from dripping overmuch down the back of her shirt in the cold January weather. Leaning into the kitchen, she glanced at Tom and Jane who had seated themselves at the table. Both had fallen suspiciously silent at her approach.

Registering the change, she narrowed her eyes at the two individuals. Seconds ticked by as the silence between them grew thicker.

"Right," Jane said stridently, nudging Tom's chair with her foot. "You've best be off because if I know anything it's the fact that her hair takes a damnably long time to do anything with and your team will end you if you put them in a position where they can't succeed."

"Need you sound so gleeful at the fact?" Tom wondered.

Cass rolled her eyes. "She's a bloodthirsty witch. Don't mind her."

Laughing as he rose from the chair, Jane snagged the mug he had been drinking from before he could pick it up. "I've got that covered," she scolded him. "Now go! Shoo! I'll see you both another time I suppose. I won't be awake when you come back, Cassie. Have a good time, you hear?"

Shepherded out by the bossy tone, Cassandra ducked out from the kitchen first with Tom hot on her heels.

"Has she always been like that?" There was something awestruck in his voice as Cass grabbed a heavier winter coat. She laughed at him, turning to exit the door that he held open for her.

"She was a teacher for decades. I'm fairly sure that bossy is in her genetic makeup at this point."

"Point well made," he ceded easily as they descended down the steps. "We'll hail a taxi for the ride over. It'll be faster."

Following in his wake wasn't an option. Tom's arm had crept around her waist, keeping her firmly at his side as his long strides carried him to the curb. With an adroitness that Cass envied, a cab pulled up swiftly and as he opened the door for her, she ducked in and scooted over in an attempt to leave room for his long legs in the small back seat. Once he was seated and the door was shut, they shared a look.

"This seems peculiarly familiar," Cassandra ventured after a moment. "Although it's nice to be awake for this round."

His bright laughter was loud but not abrasive in the back seat of the taxi. It was apparent that long limbed people were generally not anticipated in cabs. Thankfully the ride wasn't overlong and by the time they pulled up and Tom passed the driver a note and demurred change, only a matter of minutes had passed.

Going to slip out of the door, Cass went to place her hand on the edge of the frame in aid of levering herself out. What she got instead was a hand as he lifted her in a gesture far more elegant than she had expected. Shyly smiling her thanks, he nodded his understanding.

Quick words to the person at the door and the two individuals were let into the building seconds later. Tom grinned as he pressed open a door, ushering her in before he followed.

"And here, Cassandra, is where I leave you in their capable hands."

She took one look at the individuals who gazed at her with an assessing look and wondered if it was too late to turn tail and flee. Quelling the panic that had taken wing, she gave him an admonishing glance.

"Yes, yes, and you'll get to spend another four or five hours doing whatever you'd like before you simply have to roll in and get dressed and then leave. I see how it is," she teased, voice adopting a longsuffering tone. Glancing at the women who were located by a well lit dresser that held hair implements, she smiled beseechingly at them.

"I'm afraid I'm rather at your mercy. If you can do anything with this unruly mane of mine, you'll have enacted nothing short of a miracle."

Ice thoroughly broken, the room of strangers fluttered into motion. Tom himself was bustled out of the room and the door was shut behind him with a decisive click. An older woman who stood by the knob paused a moment and then looked at Cassandra again.

"Well. We'll surprise the boyo, alright," she murmured before turning the latch – effectively locking out any curious spectators.

Boggled at the idea of anyone having the audacity to lock Tm Hiddleston out of a room, Cass permitted herself to be hustled along.

The time passed quickly that way. Industrious as all of the individuals were, they wasted no time on light chatter. A flurry of conversations – about color, and styles, and heels and presentation – flew over her head. For her part, Cassie submitted meekly to the ministrations, thoroughly cowed.

A brief roadblock was met when the topic of dressing came up. Dressing itself would have been fine. But the sheer underthings that they had laid out ended with Cassandra's brows disappearing into her hairline. They were mad if she thought she could strip in front of complete strangers and then parade about in these. About to protest, the same older woman from before simply gave the American a look.

This time Cass stood her ground. "I'm flattered that someone took so much time to think about my underwear," she ventured drily, "but all I see is a scrap of lace for underwear and a very weird contraption that I can't even quite call a bra."

Another woman cackled as she held up the individual cups. "These have adhesive that will stick to your skin. You can't wear a bra with straps or a back with your dress, so these will keep everything where it ought."

Cass just stared. The translation was that someone would stick them to her skin for her. Covering her eyes with a hand she groaned quietly. Damn it.

"I don't suppose there's a compromise we can come to about this? While you seem quite reasonable, I'm not entirely sure you can bend the laws of gravity to your whims." It was a hopeful query. However, the timid way she had asked struck a chord with the woman who had explained their function in the first place.

"You and I can go behind a screen and get you situated with these and the underwear – and a wrap, if it makes you feel better."

Cass nodded vigorously. One was better than an entire room.

With her assent, she was once again bustled off into a flurry of activity. Carefully staring at the wall as the other woman effectively, groped her to make certain everything would be lifted and stay in place and adjusted the lace on the underwear so it lay correctly, Cassie rather thought that she was getting quite good at pretending people didn't exist. Flushing hotly all the while, however, she was thankful for the wrap that covered much of her skin from anyone's gaze.

Hustled back into a chair where two hairstylists fussed over the long damp locks that emerged from the wet braid, Cass shut her eyes and found her patience. It would be worth it. It had to be.

And in fact, it was.

Letting her awareness slowly rise to the forefront what had to be hours later, Cassandra was instructed to look into a mirror. The shock of contrasting colors of navy and nude from her dress caught her eye first, as did the wide belt that cinched in at her waist. The nude stilettos she wore couldn't be seen under the floor length hem. Her hair was a work of art, bangs carefully feathering to frame her face as the chignon kept the length of it up and off her neck without appearing too severe.

Neutral colors around her eyes brought out the vivid color, and the rest of her skin gleamed in a muted cream, but for the light strip of color that bridged her cheekbones. The true focal point was the wetly pink appearance of her lips which had parted in an expression of shock.

Turning her wide eyes to the team that had assembled to create such a look, Cass didn't know what to say.

"I-" she attempted, stumbling over the words. "That is," she began again, before her eyes trailed back to the mirror, still stupefied. "This is surreal," she whispered more quietly. "This is absolutely lovely. You've made me absolutely breathtaking. Thank you. Thank you so much."

The older woman had drifted back to the door, a more kindly smile on her expression now her job was completed. "All in a day's work, dear. It helps when the canvas is lovely to begin with, and willing to take direction. Now, shall we see what Tom has to say?"

Cassandra wondered if answering 'no' would have been inappropriate. Before she was given the opportunity to do so, however, the latch that indicated the locking mechanism clicked in the quiet of the room. The woman turned the knob and pulled the door open, glancing out into the hallway.

"There you are. Dapper as ever. We've gotten her ready to go," she shared conversationally with someone beyond Cass's line of sight.

The mystery didn't take long to resolve, however. Still facing the mirror she could see the doorframe through the reflection. When Tom came through, dressed in a sharp black jacket and pressed pants, the black bowtie offset against a blindingly white shirt, she nearly forgot to breathe. Apparently the response was mutual given how taken his expression was at the moment.

Pleased that it wasn't just her, Cassie smiled shyly at him through the mirror's reflection. Turning on the pedestal she had been stood upon for the final fittings of the dress, she was distracted by the quiet shush of the fabric's motion. Coming to attention again as she prepared to step down, a hand secured one of her own, his other secure at the small of her back. The touch steadied her as she stepped down, careful not to catch the hem.

"Thank you," Cassandra murmured quietly as her eyes locked on the door. It was easier to remain coherent if she didn't look at him. Not yet, anyway. The reality of how handsome he was had yet to fully sink in.

"You look astonishingly lovely," Tom said at last. Apparently his lack of comportment was unusual, given the stunned looks on the faces of those still in the room. He had yet to let go of her hand or remove his from her back.

"I'd say you are too, but I'm not sure I could justifiably call you pretty," Cass replied after a moment's pause. It seemed to cut through the tension as several people chortled at her tart retort. It was enough to shake Tom from his shock, which required another comment.

"Should I be insulted that you're so surprised that I can clean up?" It was a teasing query that led straight into conversational quicksand. Remaining well aware of the fact, Cassie was moderately smug with her pointed remark.

Wise enough to know when a direct answer was never a good idea, Tom just laughed. "I might be a fool, I admit, but I always knew you were lovely. You're a vision, Cassandra. I'm very glad you said you'd come with me."

Disaster adeptly averted, she grinned at him a moment. It was a more open expression of amusement than she had given him at any point before. After being stripped by a stranger though, Cass figured her reservations could survive some adjustments.

"It's unfair," she sighed as the arm at her back gently began to guide her out of the room. "You're so devastatingly attractive and it only took you roundabouts of an hour to clean up that way? I'm deeply envious."

His now familiar laugh was the response she got as they were carefully ushered out of the door to the building. Where the taxi had pulled up earlier, now a gleaming black car waited. Even before they had gotten close the driver had exited, holding the back seat's door open for both of them.

Cassandra was not oblivious to the peculiar sense of déjà vu she experienced. Perhaps it was indicative of something good, she thought. Something delightful.


	12. Under Flashing Lights

January 8, 2012

Sliding into the back seat was becoming a practiced motion by now. It was something that Cassandra was thoroughly grateful for. With the nearly ephemeral state of her dress the threat of catching the gossamer fabric with her stiletto heels was a petrifying one. Neatly tucking her dress out of peril's way – be it from her own shoes or Tom's lanky figure as it was folded up to fit – she settled back against the leather. Despite her lack of coat, the car was warm enough that the brief foray into the cold weather didn't bother her overmuch.

It seemed that Tom had much the same thought. Frowning pensively at her nearly bare shoulders and uncovered arms, his expression was thoughtful.

"Well," he remarked at last, "We'll just have to hope to get inside as quickly as possible. That wasn't well thought out of me."

His concern was flattering. However, she wondered if pointing out that she was from Michigan – a place where it was regularly considerably colder than this – would help. Given the concerted expression he had adopted she rather thought it wouldn't. Remaining quiet for a moment, she carefully rested a hand on his knee, smiling ruefully.

"It's alright." Her tone was pragmatic. "I'm rather certain that they'll be more interested in your attendance than mine. If it's cleared then I suppose I can always end up ducking inside and wait for you."

"I'm a selfish dolt," he admitted with a sigh. "I find I'm reluctant to let you out of my sight. I suppose I just want your company to myself. Though if you do get chilled, please let me know. Will you do that?"

The concern in his clear blue eyes would be her undoing. Looking up to meet his gaze, Cass found herself reduced to nodding mutely, smiling shyly again. Something about it had managed to amuse Tom as he grinned over at her. She was so very adaptive, he thought. Tartly humorous in one minute he found that she was meekly reserved the next – and both were swiftly overcome by cool formality when she found herself tested.

"I feel like I should tell you that your idea of cold is a delightful spring day where I'm from." Her voice was softer although dry with the implication that he was worrying over nothing.

Her wry attempt at easing his concerns managed to alleviate a fraction of his worry. Glancing out the window, Tom realized they were nearly there.

"I'm delighted to hear it," he replied blandly. "In light of your confession I ought make one of my own. There will be-"

Cassandra removed her hand from his leg, threading her manicured fingers through one another as she folded her hands together. Cutting him off, she lifted a brow in his direction. "A red carpet? Photographers? People whose names I've grown up knowing and never even hazarded to believe that I'd potentially encounter them at some point in my life? Yes, that would've been a confession to make."

He laughed, abashed. "Right. Gossip. I neglected to take that into account." Tom paused, his gaze concerned as he looked at her intently. "Are you alright with that? I should have shared the details with you earlier but I was afraid you would elect not to come, but I would hate for you to feel like you're now obligated to do something that-"

His own propensity for trying to talk himself out of a tight spot was something she could identify with. Leaning across the back seat, she placed three of her fingers delicately against the corner of his lips.

"The less you speak the less of a hole you'll dig yourself into," Cassandra advised quietly. Far from being angry or annoyed, her voice had a thread of amusement woven into it.

"So long as you promise not to abandon me, I'll be alright. I did want-" she paused, correcting herself. "I do want to spend the evening with you, Tom. I've been looking forward to this. Just.. help me be brave, alright?"

The car pulled to a stop in time with the end of Cassandra's sentence. She paused, wondering how they would proceed - her door was the one that faced the carpet. Tom lifted a hand to cover her fingers on his face.

"You're staggeringly brave, Cassandra. I think you would be quite the virago were you any moreso. My heart couldn't take it." His smile was kind. "Rest easy. Know I won't let the madness of this touch you."

She swallowed, nodding slightly in a silent response. She found herself comforted by what had amounted to a softly spoken promise. Releasing her hand in that moment, Tom pushed open his own door. As Cassie looked out the door he left from, she found that the dark of the street hid the fact that there might have been people watching from the other side. At the moment it seemed so very barren and so very, very much more comforting than the promise of bright lights.

Thoughts of flight were adroitly killed as the door was lightly shut behind him.

Pursing her lips and lifting her chin the American seemed to find her courage. Inch by inch the beautiful woman that had been created earlier emerged in her being. A polite smile curved over her lips although it was not inviting. Even as her pulse fluttered rapidly underneath the fragile skin of her neck Cass seemed utterly composed.

It was to that vision that Tom opened the door on. Silhouetted by the bright flashes of camera bulbs behind him, a hand reached down - stalwart, and steady. As her courage quailed slightly the composed sight of him was enough to drive her forward. Her hand slowly lifted up to rest in his.

Gently helped from the car, Cassandra found that the quiet shush of her dress reassuring. It was diaphanous and fragile but it was armored elegance that no one could penetrate.

She found that her panic from the car had temporarily muted the sounds surrounding her. Only the dull racing of her heart echoed in her ears. Finally it felt as if her lungs unlocked, however, and she could take a deep breath. Feeling that, Tom's characteristic grin faded to something more intimate. His teeth weren't revealed behind his lips, but it was a smile that she knew was only for her.

As the tension ebbed from her figure, his hand rest lightly at the small of her back, easing her along. Pleased to find that the carpet wasn't slick beneath her stilettos, Cassandra meandered forward with grace lent to her by the drape of her dress and the stride required from her shoes. Every step brought them closer to the barricades that she surmised press and public were kept behind.

Desperate to distract herself from that inevitability, she glanced up at him with a teasing smile. It was an equally intimate expression as the one he had granted her. The look was meant for Tom alone.

"I did say how incredibly good you looked, didn't I?"

He looked down at her, features somewhat surprised. Something smug rose in Cassie's breast. She surmised he hadn't figured her recovery to be so smooth. If only he knew – behind the skirts of her dress, her knees still trembled. What was press, however, compared to a class of her senior students? When in doubt: bluff. Drawing on those skills had served her well in the past.

"You might have mentioned it," he replied casually, blue eyes animated. In the last steps of privacy that they would have for the entire night, Cassandra laughed quietly.

"It was a lie."

A sudden stiffness in his jaw was Tom's only betraying response. It was subtle, she would give him that. Tilting her chin up she let a quiet laugh, low and comfortable, be drowned out by the hub of the crowd they were approaching.

"You aren't just good looking. You're incredibly sexy. I thought that honesty would be my best defense in this situation."

Her voice had dropped to a low murmur so that the man beside her had stooped slightly to hear Cassie's words. Recognizing how she had played him so effortlessly, he straightened and grinned widely down at her. Cass slowed her step slightly so she was a few inches behind him even as his hand still lingered at the small of her back.

Tom offered no inclination to drift too closely to the edges of the carpet where cameras flashed, video reeled and microphones lingered. Every few steps he paused and Cassandra drew herself to a halt effortlessly at his side. The way that his fingers pressed lightly into her hip as his arm crept around the small of her back made it easier.

"I didn't know you had it in you," he replied when the furor dimmed somewhat. The further they progressed down the red carpet the fewer the public seemed to number, but the more press had collected.

Cassandra simply smiled in reply.

"You don't work in education with teenagers without picking up tricks." He gave her a speaking look. The answer had given him absolutely no information. Lips tilting up at the corner slightly, she continued. "Never lose composure even if you're terrified. If you lose control the most effective way to gain it back is through surprise. Always be ready with a reward for positive behavior. Kindness is never the wrong answer."

It was a peculiar list, but in retrospect something that made more than enough sense. Laced with teasing and earnestness, Tom was quiet for a moment.

She felt his arm slide away from her back as he took a step forward, pausing as cameras flashed specifically on him. Wise enough to remain out of the shot, Cassandra was still for a moment. A familiar voice in her ear distracted her from the awkwardness.

"I hadn't thought to see you here," Benedict remarked.

Turning her head slowly to see the man at her side, Cassie offered him a polite smile of greeting. Even before she spoke, she wondered if there had been an unwritten dress code for the evening. Down to the satiny texture of the coat's lapels, his outfit was eerily reminiscent of Tom's. She blinked at the similarity.

"I hadn't thought to be here," she replied quietly with a wry smile. "If I'm being honest I hadn't expected anything of the sort. It's lovely to see you again, Benedict."  
"Ben." She lifted a brow at the quiet insistence but he smiled politely in return at the look. "I'll be answering to Benedict all evening. It would be nice to have another person at least sounding as a friend."

Put that way, Cassandra didn't think she could argue with it.

"You're breathtaking tonight." Taken aback by the abruptness of the comment she offered him a polite laugh.

"It's astounding what a team of stylists, five hours and free rein can do," Cassie demurred politely. Color crept in her cheeks at the compliment, the sensation of feeling inauthentic overtaking her mind again. Benedict reached out to secure a hand under her elbow, guiding her lightly to turn in a quarter of a circle.

"Smile for the bright lights." His teasing merited an arch look from the woman's direction even as her lips curved up slightly.

"And therein lay the fundamental difference of our characters. You gravitate to light whereas I'm more than content to eschew them. Completely hopeless case, I'm afraid."

"It sounds as if you could be accusing me of being one who craves the limelight."

"Or I'm calling you a moth?"

What might have been banter that led to tension was dissolved as a smile broke its way over Ben's face. It had been the first time she had managed to elicit such a response from him and Cassie found herself pleased to have gotten through to the more reserved man in such a way.

"I'm not sure which is worse. An insect or a celebrity," Tom's voice drawled from her other side.

"A celebrity," Benedict replied drily. "Most certainly that. At least most people manage to ignore insects."

Laughing at the exchange, Cass reached out to rest a hand on Tom's forearm. Smiling lightly at Ben as she stepped closer to the taller man she simply shook her head at both of them.

"I begin to think both of you were being kept on a leash during that dinner."

Tom's grin was telling.

Giving their temporary farewells to Benedict, the pair continued down the red carpet. As they managed to draw space between his colleague and themselves Tom leaned down slightly so his words fell directly into her ear.

"You mentioned rewards for good behavior. The notion intrigues. What constitutes good behavior? And a reward?"

Flushing hotly at the way his voice dropped to a lower tone than she was used to expecting from him Cass found herself wishing that they had some form of contact other than his hand on her back. She might have contrived to pinch him. Stepping on his foot would have been too obvious.

"I would say that you'll see but somehow, I rather doubt it."

The tart reply scored a blow, Tom acknowledged to himself with a laugh. It seemed that Cassandra Moore had found her feet in the unfamiliar environment. No one might have guessed at her discomfort – be it from the fine, cold drizzle that began or from the multitude of eyes that seemed to fix curiously on her in passing.

As far as he was concerned she was managing beautifully. It made it easier on his conscience to step away and interact more effortlessly with those along what seemed to be a walk that was taking an eternity. Fans offered sheafs of paper and pens for him to sign. Others proffered small gifts, few of which Cassandra saw him take. What she couldn't fail to acknowledge was the unfailing kindness he treated them all with.

While he ventured more closely to the edges of the barricade Tom always seemed to return to the center of the carpet where she kept pace with him. Smiling patiently, to those who watched it seemed that the statuesque blonde woman was an old hand at this sort of thing. They made a beautiful picture together, but she didn't seem to begrudge the actor his need to exchange words with a number of individuals.

When at long last they reached the doors held open to the theater itself, Cassandra breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At her side again, Tom looked down with a smile. The arm around her waist shifted to wrap around her ribcage, pressing her closely against him and locking her arms to her side. She didn't protest.

The heat from his figure was a merciful change from the cool air that had buffeted her bare skin for the past long minutes. As his hand settled on the bare skin of her arm, Tom's expression slid into a frown.

"You're frozen," he stated.

Cass lifted a brow at him. She didn't deign to reply, the rather sardonic expression saying it all. His concern lingered but the severity of it lightened as he chuckled slightly at the obviousness of his own statement.

"Right. Stating the obvious."

She inclined her head slightly. A warm wash of air as they entered the interior of the building made the tension melt from her figure. His hand rubbed lightly up and down her arm, chafing the skin for the friction the motion would bring. Reaching her own hand around to rest it lightly on his, Cassandra shook her head lightly.

"No worries, Tom," she said quietly, attempting to absolve him from guilt.

The exchange might have continued longer had something not caught Tom's attention. It appeared that he had either noted the time or someone else had caught his eye. His arm dropped away from her side as he stepped away.

"If you don't mind waiting for me?"

She couldn't help it. Cassie laughed.

"Oh yes. I'm going to hare off back onto the carpet, or into the theater without you." Her voice offered absolutely no inflection of sarcasm or teasing. The delivery was perfect for the irony she was attempting to convey.

He grinned. "Right. I'll return shortly."


	13. Heart in Despair

January 8, 2012

Migrating closer to a wall to find herself tucked out of the way Cassandra found her eyes wandering over the room. Black was a color that dominated the crowd, the men's coats overwhelming the rest. The occasional accents came from women's dresses or the poster of the film itself. As her gaze fell upon Tom, now situated in a line of familiar faces, she couldn't help but smile.

It was a smile that receded quickly. It had been the dress that had caught her eye first, lace patterned over a paler fabric. The woman was exceptionally beautiful and, even to the American, exceptionally familiar. Watching the couple so fondly referred to as "Will and Kate" by every news station across her own country traverse the line of actors who had starred in the film, shaking their hand in turn and conversing with them briefly Cassandra experienced another paradigm shift.

What a peculiar world she had entered into. For a moment she felt nearly helpless, overtaken by the grandiosity of it all. Swathed in the elegantly sheer fabric and with her hair so carefully done, this was not Cassandra Moore. She did not recognize this grand creature – but it certainly was not her.

The melancholy of her thoughts might have overtaken her entirely were she not promptly disturbed. A small hand gently slipped into Cassie's left, which hung loosely at her side. The sensation of children's fingers was one she would never be able to mistake.

Looking down with an expression of bafflement, a small brunette girl peered up at her intently. By Cassandra's measure the child couldn't have been more than nine. Old enough to be dressed up for a night like this, but too young to know fearlessness in the face of strangers.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but who are you?"

Cassie adopted her best schoolteacher's expression. It was a patient, tolerant look but one that was moderately severe at the same time. It was an expression that demanded further explanation of whomever was the recipient. This small child was no exception.

"You're so pretty, and you were with all of them. Might I have your autograph?"

Poleaxed, Cass wondered how to navigate this particular conundrum. She couldn't help the wry smile that snuck over her lips but knew the girl wouldn't understand it.

Bending her knees to sink down, balanced precariously on her stilettos she found herself at eye level with the child. Her hand was still held by the little girl's. Tightening her fingers around it gently, the American made a gallant play at shaking it in a parody of the adult greeting.

Making certain that her knees were tucked together and the dress wouldn't come to harm with a quick look down, Cass reclaimed her arms and rested them on her own knees.

"You could if you wanted it but I'm afraid I'm not someone you'd want one from."

"You're American!"

"Well, yes, I'm afraid I'm that, too," Cass allowed ironically. It was humor that would go over the child's head but she couldn't quite help herself for that one. Smiling kindly at the girl, she tilted her head to the side.

"I'm Cassie. It's nice to meet you."

"Well, my name is Victoria."

The older woman allowed a patient expression of benevolent kindness to settle on her features. Despite generally being exposed to older students there was something charming about Victoria's precociousness.

"It's very nice to meet you, Victoria. And thank you for your compliment, but I think you are even prettier. You could be a princess."

She watched the child preen at the compliment. Oh to be young again, she thought. Oh to be so brave, with the world meant to be at your very feet. Rotating her feet to keep her unsteady balance, her blue eyes continued to investigate the child.

The girl demurred the comment like an expert. However it seemed that the attention span of the youth had dissipated once the notion that Cassandra might have been someone famous was put to rest. Watching her scamper away back to an older woman's side, Cass presumed she had returned to her family.

It only left her with the conundrum of having to rise without making a mess of it. Not for the first time she thought unkind things about the shoes she had been given to wear that night.

Unlike earlier events, this time she knew he was there. The warmth of his figure standing at her back was apparent, given the lightweight fabric of her dress. A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, the warm palm a stark difference against the cooler air.

"That was kind of you," Tom remarked quietly.

Cass shrugged slightly, eyes still watching the little girl in her purple dress. "It costs me nothing to give my kindness to others."

He seemed unimpressed with her deferment. Reaching down, Tom secured both of her hands in his. The strong, unyielding grasp gently lifted her to her feet again without incident – something she had been at a loss as to how to achieve on her own. Once they stood, her back to his front, she looked over her shoulder with a shyer look than she had yet given him.

"Thank you."

A softer smile was on his features, an expression she couldn't quite recognize. Instead of replying, he squeezed her hand lightly and led her through the room. Minutes ticked by but unlike on the carpet outside, Tom didn't seem inclined to step away from her side again. It was quietly comforting.

"You realize you'll be able to find yourself on the web, now." It was a nonchalant comment that elicited a considering look from Cassandra as she glanced at him for a long moment. She tilted her head to the side.

"You say that as if I'm not on it already."

"And if I say you aren't?"

"Then I'd have to ask why you were looking," she replied with a laugh. As he opened his mouth, she lifted her hand in silent protest. "No! No, I don't need to know."

He grinned, pleased with the playful nature of their exchange. It was bright and lively, something that had attempted to break free the entire evening. To have it expressed so honestly now was gratifying.

"Very well," he allowed, laughing himself. "All the better. I'd hate to have to admit to it. And having said that, I find myself aided by the time. We'd best find our seats now."

Without further ado the pair entered the theatre. A brace of the air conditioned climate gave her temporary pause as she bit back a plaint. She had survived the outside, she could tolerate this as well, Cassandra thought. Moments later found them seated towards the center of the room in the middle of the aisle. Tom sat to her right and on her left was a familiar face from the UNICEF dinner.

While David Thewlis said no particular greeting to her, the bespectacled man recognized the American. He offered her a brief smile that she returned with an inclination of her head. The exchange lasted a matter of seconds but it offered enough time to be taken by surprise as a man's formal coat draped around her shoulders.

Looking down to see the long sleeves settling in her lap, Cass turned to Tom ready to protest. He took her right hand in his, squeezing lightly.

"Not a word," he said firmly. "I won't hear of it."

Swallowing the reasons why he shouldn't, she gave him a thankful look instead. The crisp white of his shirt and the stark contrast of his bowtie looked absurd, but the dimming of the lights removed the peculiar fashion statement.

As pictures began to reel across the screen, she leaned over to rest her chin on his shoulder lightly.

"Thank you."

The whisper would be the last words either spoke until the movie had come to its completion.

When the lights flickered on Cassandra attempted to ignore the fact that she was misty-eyed with sentiment. Glancing over at Tom she found the man watching her intently as if to gauge her response. She reached over to rest her hand on the back of his, squeezing it lightly.

"It's a beautiful movie."

He inclined his head. There was nothing that he might have said that could have expounded on the finality of her sentiment. Cassie might have spoken on how exceptionally he had come across in the film. She might have remarked on the historical aspects, or the story itself – but the truth was, War Horse was more than all of those things: it truly was a beautiful picture.

Carefully rising, She delicately took his jacket from her shoulders and grinned at the white expanse of his shirt. Holding it out to him so that he might slip it on without mussing himself further, as he took the time to do up the one button she straightened the wrinkles across his shoulders.

Formalwear, she thought, flattered him unfairly.

Thusly situated, he gestured with his hand for her to follow. Picking their way out of the theater, the rush of fresh night air as they exited out from the lobby was invigorating. Cass turned her eyes to the company around them, and couldn't help but smile. While a few photographers lingered the numbers of press had diminished significantly and the individuals who had been honored to attend reflected this in their demeanor.

There was laughter, a release of tension that made them more than figures of prestige. It made them people.

Tom himself wasn't immune to the phenomena. Reaching down to clasp her hand in his, he swung their limbs lightly as they walked out to where she presumed the car was waiting for them. True to form as they came up to the vehicle even before she might have made an attempt to grab for the door herself Cass found herself carefully tucked against his side and his free hand pulled it open for her.

Grinning at him as he sat down after her, she let her head tilt against the cool glass window.

"This time," she remarked conversationally, "I shall endeavor not to fall asleep on you."

"By all means," Tom replied, hands lifting in emphasis, "if you feel it necessary, please. Don't let me stop you. It's quite endearing."

Her sentiment on that was quite clear from her response. Cassie's lips flattened, unamused. Endearing was not the way a woman wanted to be perceived, she thought of glumly. Beautiful? Alright. Sexy? Well yes, that'd be better. Amazing? Breathtaking? She could run the gamut of adjectives.

But endearing? Victoria had been endearing. At over six feet in her heels, Cassandra rather thought she broke the height requirement for that specific sentiment.

"There's an after party." It was an abrupt statement, a poor attempt at being conversational. The forced casualness of his tone betrayed him and Cass relayed such with an eloquent lift of an eyebrow.

Correctly translating it, Tom laughed.

"Jane actually knew about it but she gave me specific instructions to have you home after the film."

"Apparently I'm sixteen again with my first boyfriend," Cass said in wonder. It didn't particularly come as a surprise that the older woman would do that, per se, but she could not help but be amused. "Gad. Spare me that hell. I never want to be sixteen ever again."

Tom laughed. "To be fair you're still up on me. It took me years to grow out of my childish features and into my length."

Cass gave him a flat look. "Tall and gawky is acceptable for boys. It's expected. For a teenage girl to be walking around with an exit sign permanently plastered to her forehead from walking into everything she needs to duck around is absolutely mortifying."

He was unkind enough to chuckle, Cassie thought. Then again even she laughed at her own description of that. How peculiar that she had loathed high school so desperately and yet found herself entrenched in it for a career.

Life was very, very odd. It had a very peculiar sense of humor that she wasn't entirely certain she appreciated at times.

"Well if we're to relieve our youth we could always disobey the 'rents and stay out after curfew," Tom offered after a moment.

She grinned at him. The broad expression of mirth faded into something more contemplative though no less amused. Regarding him speculatively, Cass thought that it would have been so easy just to say yes. The evening could have swept her away, the magic, continued.

"Actually," she mused, "unlike my younger – and stupider – self, I think I'll take dear Mother Hen's wisdom into account."

His look told her he was surprised. Frankly, she was, too. He didn't seem inclined to press though Cassandra felt obligated to offer him an explanation. Reaching out to thread her fingers between his, she watched the street lights throw shadows over his features as they drove on.

"It's just.." She struggled with how to phrase it, falling quiet. "This has all been so surreal," Cass finally said, voice softer than a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do if I were to wake up and find it all, but a dream."

Tom's eyes were kind. He seemed to comprehend the sentiment, the solemnity with which she offered him those reasons. Perhaps, Cassie thought, he could see the truth. She could protect herself from feeling too much for a time – but should the night continue, all those defenses would surely crumble with the passing moments.

The rest of the ride passed in comfort. Adrenaline from the evening had taken the edge off of Tom's characteristic liveliness. For her part, Cassandra found herself absolutely exhausted. The tension and the anxiety and the preparation had dragged so heavily on her thoughts that every second had been a trial. Finding that all of those worries were for naught left her boneless in relief.

When the car pulled to a smooth stop, Cass lifted a hand to stay his movement.

"No," she demurred with a grin. "Best let me do it. After all, soon I may find that I'll forget how to open a door."

His laughter wasn't overpowering even as she exited the car.

"This is very decidedly out of character," he complained from where he sat, still inside. "It's also incredibly impolite."

She grinned impishly, backing up a few steps as she prepared to shut it.

"What can I say? I'm American!"

The door thudded closed as she nudged it, and then she whirled to bound up the steps to Jane's apartment. A light in the window indicated that the older woman was likely still up. The door to the building pushed open as Cass drew near, and even as she waved over her shoulder to the car, she ducked inside.

Lights washed through the windows as she entered the building, indicating that the car had pulled out when she reached the safety of the interior. Carefully edging past Jane who stood at the door, Cass wondered why the older woman had yet to shut it.

Turning, she looked down at her friend who stood there, motionless.

Peculiar. Cassie reached over her head to shut the heavy front door, hearing the satisfying click of the locks as they fell into place. Her hands shifted to pull up the hem of her dress while she toed off the shoes. That was another thing she'd have to address, she thought. The matter of the outfit – she'd have to find a way to.. what? Return it?

A smile stole across her features as she stood in the atrium, lost in her own mind. It seemed that another meeting with Tom would be forthcoming.

At last, however, Jane moved. Turning to face the taller girl, she reached out to clasp Cassandra's forearm.

"Cass," she began, her voice thick with tension.. tension, and emotion. "Cassie."

The blond stiffened, eyes widening as she took in her friend's state. She was frazzled.. she was upset. There was an edge to Jane that Cassandra had never seen before.

"Cassie," Jane said lowly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry… Cassie.. oh God. Cass, your mother's dead."


	14. The Empty World

January 11, 2012

Cassandra stared numbly ahead as the priest's words droned on. All she could hear was a static buzzing, anyway. The young woman remained dry eyed as her gaze remained locked on the casket that contained Susan Moore's body. Her heart lurched as her mind put that phrase together.

Susan Moore's body. It might have been so impersonal. The obituary had been uninspired. The coroner, too, had spoken in clinical tones. For Cass, however, those words strung together in that phrasing weren't impersonal. They were more than meaningful – they were her entire world. Her entire existence was redefined by those words.

Her mother was dead. Susan's laugh, her joy and her love would never be shared again.

Despite the rigidity of Cassandra's features, she couldn't help the tear that slid out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. Feeling the hot warmth slide down, she curled her fingers into her palm. The bite of her nails was a comforting hurt. It was a distraction. It kept the tears at bay.

When Joe, two seats over, came to his feet and Sam emulated the movement Cassie rose as well. There was no unsteadiness. No hesitation. The pallbearers moved to the coffin's sides as the family stood. Watching them carefully proceed down the row and into the car the congregation stood as well. The dread silence of the church choked Cassandra, but she made no move to escape.

Instead she stood behind Samantha as she stood down at her feet. Her words had become limited ever since Jane had delivered the dreaded news. The trip home was a blur of shock and disbelief in her memory. She had pulled on jeans and a shirt though hadn't bothered to change her shoes or undo her hair or makeup. Rushing to the airport and catching the soonest flight home by hopping through various airports for the connections had been exhausting but it meant nothing to Cassandra Moore.

She was numb anyway.

Only when she had finally pulled up to the house that her mother and father shared together on January ninth did the reality sink in. Tripping into the home, she found family sitting at the dining room table. Absently Cass realized there was no seat left for her.

Disheveled and still processing the news, she had stared down at her mother's brother, her father and her sister. All were mute.

For hours all that Cass had done by way of speech had been that which was necessary to get her to her location. Finding the words to ask the questions that ached in her heart seemed impossible. For long moments she stood there with her knees trembling. Cassie's lips parted, shut again and then separated as if to speak.

"She killed herself."

The words were a near physical blow to Cassandra Moore. Sam's words had been flat and unemotional but the delivery couldn't salvage the message. Her teeth chattered as reality sunk in.

A quick hand reached out and clasped on Samantha's shoulders. Joe, sitting next to her, glared ferociously at his eldest daughter. "Don't say that." His anger was palpable, white hot.

Struggling to breathe, Cass had closed her eyes and let the white noise of shock sink into her mind. How long she leaned against the wall with her legs shaking like that she couldn't say. Only when arms wrapped ferociously around her waist did the young woman return her consciousness to the room.

She looked up at her uncle with dry eyes. His own were red, she noted absently.

"The wake is today," Jack managed to say though his words were far from the steady delivery that all the members of the Moore family had managed. "The funeral will be tomorrow."

Finally at this Cassandra responded. Pushing out of her uncle's arms she stepped away from the wall to stare in desperation at her father.

"What are you doing?!" It was a frantic demand, an almost hysterical one. Cass's voice shook as she looked over to Sam wildly. "Why are we burying her? This is Mom! Our Mom! You know her! She didn't want to be buried!"

The words that she managed to gasp out between the frantic chattering of her teeth were choked with a sob. It was the first tenable sign of emotion that Cassandra had given them. Somehow, though, the idea of her mother chained to the dirt when Susan had always expressed a desire for cremation had broke the chains of composure on the youngest person in the room.

"She'll be buried in the family plot," Joseph replied, his voice wrought with anger.

To argue would have been futile, Cass realized hopelessly. She stared at Joe for a moment, helpless, before wheeling away and fleeing from the dining room.

Cassandra Moore had not spoken with her family since. The wake that afternoon passed unremarkably. The funeral was a blur of faces and quiet, whispered sympathies in her memory. The people didn't matter. Neither did their words.

Staring down at her feet as she followed Samantha out of the church, Cass repressed a shudder. She felt sick. The palpable sensation of nausea creeping up the back of her throat made her shake as she stopped outside the building.

There was so much black. So much despair.

Her vacant stare was disrupted when someone stepped in front of her. It took Cass several long seconds to identify the figure. Blinking to focus her eyesight, and then again as she tried to process, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a gesture that could have only been considered defensive.

For long moments Richard and Cassandra simply looked at one another.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he began at last. She merely nodded in acknowledgement. Instead of ending the conversation it seemed only to serve as encouragement.

"I know how you must feel." His voice was cloying and only added to the nausea that besieged her. "Loss is terrible, baby. So tragic. But you'll find that great things come of it. You'll grow up out of it and be a better person because of what happened. You'll see. You can start over… I can help you-"

The hand that lashed out was faster than anyone watching could have imagined. The force behind the slap was equally shocking.

Cassandra Moore had been a ghost since her return from England. Her lack of animation was distressing, though hardly surprising in the wake of her mother's death. Now however that listlessness had receded into a nearly palpable rage.

"You," she hissed, voice shaking with her temper. "You understand nothing. Nothing will be the same. Nothing good will come from this. My mother is dead."

The hand that Cassandra had hit him with hadn't fallen to her side. Temper brought a hot flush to her cheeks as her eyes spat venom at the man.

 _"How dare you."_ She didn't know what to say. She didn't know the words to spit at him, the reply that could convey the measure of her hurt, anger or grief. Cass shook her head. "My mother is dead," she repeated as her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's dead. You can't possibly comprehend my grief."

It was as if a veil descended over her again. Hollowness returned, an aching emptiness that disguised her grief, covered her fear and her sorrow. She showed nothing other than moderate disinterest in the man in front of her.

Cass didn't bother with a farewell. Looking over to where her father's familiar car was idling, she picked her way through the parking lot to duck into the interior. It was a quiet drive to the cemetery with her father and sister in the front seat. Left to stare listlessly out the window, Cassandra let numbness take over her mind again. It hurt less than thinking.

That state carried her through the funeral.

As the attendees trickled away Cass remained standing at the foot of the grave. She watched as all the dirt was replaced over the casket. It was a bare patch of earth in a snow-covered world.

When Joseph came back to stand beside her Cassandra didn't bother looking over. She only felt the cold press of metal in her hands. The keys to his car.

"Your sister and I are going back with Alex," Joe said gruffly. She just nodded and listened to the last of the footsteps recede.

Straightening slowly, Cass slipped the keys into the pocket of her long wool coat. Looking around she realized that no one else was left. Joseph had been the only one to remain by the grave as the cemetery staff had finished burying it. With him gone, there was no one.

No one.

Empty.

No Susan. No Susan, whose bright laugh had always made her smile. No mother who had always known when to hug her daughter. No mother who understood when not to push. No soul who loved so freely, without reservation.

Choking on a sob, Cassandra sank to her knees. For the first time since Jane had spoken to her Cassie broke down and wept. Kneeling in the dirt, tears flooded down her cheeks in an unrelenting stream. She couldn't curb them.

She didn't want to.

Hunched over on the ground at the foot of the grave, Cass watched as her tears hit the ground. Anguish overtook her figure. Hurt had settled, intractably, in her heart and it would not move.

She did not mind. The hurt, the aching hollowness, the burning grief, the freezing anguish were tangible reminders of what she had lost. They were fitting reminders.

The world was paler now, the world had lost its laughter. All Cassandra could do was weep.


	15. For The Goodbye

January 11, 2012

Nighttime came early to northern Michigan in the dead of winter. The darkness that crept over the sky did not disturb Cassandra Moore. Kneeling with her head bowed before the headstone. The marble nearly glowed in the dim evening light, mockingly fresh, mockingly new.

_Susan Moore_

_July 3, 1955 - January 8, 2012._

_Beloved daughter, wife, mother._

_Until we meet again._

"Oh Mommy," Cassandra sobbed, her eyes sliding shut. The gesture couldn't keep the tears from sliding down her cheeks. Her voice caught, rasped with emotion. "Oh Mother. Why..? Why did you have to go?"

_Why did you go somewhere that I cannot follow?_

She made no move to wipe away the moisture from her cheeks. It would have been a vain effort. Fresh tears fell to replace the ones that dripped to the ground.

Her silent crying finally gave way to sobs, her slender figure wrought with the effort that breathing took. Cass's shoulders trembled with the weight of her grief, hands fisted on her knees as she wept.

"Why did you leave me?" Palpable anguish tormented her words. "I'm so sorry, Mommy. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I wasn't what I was meant to be. I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry I wasn't enough._

The weight of her words exhausted Cassandra. The air that her ragged breathing managed to deliver to her lungs burned. It was a sharp sting that was a thankless reminder of it all. It brought to clarity the cemetery and the grave, the headstone and the words etched so starkly within it. It made it impossible to overlook the grief that was ripping her to pieces.

Crumbled before the grave, the young woman's sobs subsided. Her anguished cries tapered off and the ragged words fell silent. Cassie wished the numbness of shock would return. Wished that something other than the bone deep hurt and fatigue would take over her life. Wished that she was anywhere but here, that she might wake and find this all to be some horrible, tormented dream.

A gasping cry broke past her lips unexpectedly. Biting the inside of her cheek, Cassandra's eyes finally lifted to stare at the name engraved on the tombstone.

It was surreal. This couldn't be the reality that Cassandra Moore now lived in. Snow flurried down to rest on the disturbed dirt, attempting to restore its barrenness to something smoother, something untouched. If it did, Cass wondered, would it be as if it had never happened?

No. The reality couldn't be escaped. Couldn't be ignored.

Susan Moore was dead.

She was dead, and it wasn't even an accident. She had chosen to do this, Cass thought desperately, wild with anguish. Chosen to take her own life. Chosen to leave.

"I'm sorry I wasn't good enough," Cassandra sobbed into the silence. Her breathing was ragged and her body, trembling. Cold, fatigue, shock and grief had finally come to the point where she couldn't contain it any longer.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mommy." She curled down around herself, still kneeling. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want to! God.. Mom. I love you! Please.. please. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I couldn't.."

A firm hand reached down to hold the girl's shoulder tightly. It was a warm touch, bare of the glove that one should have been wearing in the weather.

Almost absently Cass wondered how oblivious she had truly been to overlook the crunch of snow as someone walked through it. It was a temporary distraction from all that was trying to drown her. Slowly she looked up to the person who stood beside her, their hand tight on her shoulder.

Jane.

"No, sweetheart," Jane's voice interrupted. Her tone was thick with emotion that Cassandra couldn't identify. "No, sweetheart. No. It wasn't that you were good enough. It wasn't that you let her down. Not that you failed."

Without a thought to the thin slacks that were rumpled and travel worn the old woman knelt in the snow beside Cassie. Reaching over she pulled the girl to her, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. All of Cass's strength seemed to flee in that instant, the moment that someone seemed willing to support her when she was no longer capable of doing so herself.

"Your _mother loved you_ ," Jane emphasized, voice gruff with unshed tears. "Susan loved you so very, very much, Cassie. You made her happy. You brought her joy. So, so much joy. This isn't your fault, sweetheart. This isn't yours to bear."

Shaking in Jane's hold Cass's eyes shut. Turning her cheek into her friend's shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her mentor's figure. She couldn't stop trembling.

"What am I supposed to do?" She spoke lowly, the words rasping out. "How can I go on, Jane? How can I get past this?"

Jane reached up to stroke Cassandra's hair slowly, her own brown eyes staring vacantly at Susan Moore's headstone. The rhythmic touch soothed them both as the seconds ticked by. How could she answer a question she herself didn't know?

"You live," she replied at last. "You live, and even though it hurts, you go on. Because that's what life does.. it goes on. And you live it in a way that would have made your mother happy. You laugh, because she would have wanted it. You love, because that's what she wanted for you."

Cass couldn't keep the sob at bay that rose in response. Jane simply hugged her more tightly.

Silence fell between them as they held one another. How long transpired neither woman could have said. Finally it was Cassandra who shifted, drawing back from Jane and settling back to rest on her heels. She stared listlessly at the grave.

"I can't teach like this, Jane." She paused, eyes sliding shut. "It's hard enough to breathe. I don't know how I can work."

Jane reached over to keep her hand on Cass's shoulder. Looking at the younger woman now frightened her. There was something so.. lost. So helpless. The sensation that she was looking at a soul who had been utterly cast adrift with no direction at all sank in. Cassandra Moore did not know where to go, or who to turn to – even what to feel.

The realization that the girl could so effortlessly slip away in her grief was terrifying. Jane needed to keep that contact, that link with her.

"So don't," she replied quietly. "I'm fairly certain the district would understand.. but Cass, what will you do with yourself if you don't work? You can't live mired in your grief."

There was something almost amusing in the look that Cassie gave her, and both women knew it. It was almost as if she were saying 'like hell I can't'. The fact that she so easily might, though, weighed heavily on them both.

"What am I supposed to do?" Cass asked it brokenly, her voice small as if she were a child all over again.

"What makes you _happy_ ," Jane replied enigmatically.

It clearly wasn't the reply that Cassandra would have liked to hear. A briefly sour look flickered over her expressions as she looked at the older woman before sighing. Slowly, so slowly and so very, very stiffly, she rose to her feet. Once standing she offered a hand to her friend and helped pull her up.

Leaving Jane behind, Cass carefully skirted the newly disturbed dirt to stand beside the gravestone. Taking off the gloves that had kept her from feeling the bite of the cold overmuch she rested her hand against the newly cut stone.

It was a fond touch. It was the touch of years, of memory and of experiences shared.

It was the touch of goodbye.

"Bye, Mommy," Cassie whispered quietly. "I love you. I miss you.. but I'll try. For both of us, Mom. For both of us."

Turning back to Jane she looked at her friend bleakly. The future seemed so uncertain. She couldn't comprehend mustering the energy to eat food, never mind actually making it. The very act of living seemed exhausting.

Jane appeared to recognize that. "You haven't slept since you left," she murmured quietly, taking control of the keys that Cass had fished from her pockets. "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go back, have some food. Have a drink. Maybe the morning will make things clear."

Willingly led back to the car, Cassandra permitted herself to be bundled into the interior and taken back to the apartment she had lived in for the past two years. It lacked a touch of home. It lacked the aching, familiar influences that her childhood residence had that brought her mother to mind.

For that, she found herself finally capable of dozing off to sleep on the couch while Jane looked on quietly, content with the quiet.


	16. As Hope Burns

January 20, 2012

The din of the restaurant hurt Cassandra Moore's brain. She flinched slightly but was steadied by the calm hand that Amanda rested on her forearm. Looking over to her friend, Cass smiled quietly hoping that it could express her thanks.

Nine days had passed.

Nine horrible days that had blurred together. Sometimes she could recall eating. Others, the notion of showering and cooking seemed too overwhelming and the effort was discarded. More often than not, Cassandra Moore read. Books of history, stories, myths and biographies that could consume her mind were her literature of choice. She wasn't discriminating.

It had been Kelsey that had pointed out that Cass had virtually eschewed the world of the living. While succinct emails permitted those close to her to be aware of her thoughts and wellbeing Cassandra lacked the inclination to try to face the world. It was too daunting a prospect and she, too hollow to cope.

The matter was resolved by simply not asking the blonde before making plans.

When Amanda showed up at her doorstep to drive her to make their reservations on time Cass had thought to argue. Finding that it would have taken too much energy, the grief wrought woman simply passively ceded to the wishes of her friends.

Finding herself stuck at a table with the three other women though Cassie wondered if it wouldn't have been better to make a ruckus over it all.

"What are you going to do?" Sara asked the question directly, eyes locked onto Cass's tired gaze. It was the first time someone had so boldly addressed the fact that their friend seemed to have had no plan. "You've resigned, you've told us.. but what are you going to do? You're wasting away, Cassie. You can't do this to yourself."

The acerbic reply that she obviously could, considering she was doing it already was one that she discarded. Biting back the acidic retort Cassandra sighed tiredly. They were worried. They were worried because they cared. Keeping that in mind, she mustered a weary smile.

"I'm unemployed for the foreseeable future. The board was nice enough not to fight about it." Running a hand through her messy loose hair, Cass thought back to that. The principal had been more than nice, he had been nothing but understanding. Sighing, she looked ruefully up at her friends. "I'm going back to school. I may as well take courses to get my doctorate's now that I've got several years of actual teaching experience on my resume."

Amanda squeezed Cassie's wrist lightly before taking a sip of her wine. "It's a good idea," she shared quietly before anyone else could speak. "It's work you love, and a passion that can consume you. Maybe it will help."

"Well it can't hurt," Cass pointed out unable to bite back the acidity of the comment. Nothing could.

Kelsey gave her friend a narrow eyed look. The entire evening out had been her idea and while the fact that they had actually gotten Cassandra to eat a full meal was a starting point, her spirits hadn't improved. As the waiter returned with the paid bill, the brunette wondered if there was anything they could do that might restore Cass's spirits.

Time, certainly. Time was the only promise that any of them had that might assuage the hurt. Perhaps she had rushed this plan, Kelse acknowledged before standing and shrugging on her coat.

"Come on," she entreated, brown eyes bright. "We're going for a walk."

"Ugh," Sara rejoined, groaning. "I'm so full. How about you roll me instead?"

Cassandra was surprised at the quiet laugh that unexpectedly made an appearance. Her friends seemed delighted by the response. Looking at them as they stared at her, Cass lifted a brow. "Don't look at me, I'm not going to carry you," she pointed out and for a moment, for a very brief moment the other women saw in her a glimmer of the person they had known previously.

It was a promising start.

Amanda chuckled at the way they were herded out of the restaurant. While the late January air was biting there was something refreshing about escaping the atmosphere of the building. Cassandra tilted her head back and inhaled deeply. The stars burned clear and bright in a cloudless sky.

There was a promise in them, she thought even as Kelsey grabbed her hand and pulled her along the sidewalk.

After five minutes of walking Sara appeared prepared to mutiny against the idea of being forced to walk further. Her mulish expression met Kelsey's as both women seemed set to go to war over the final destination. Observing from the sidelines, Amanda rolled her eyes as she settled next to Cass.

"Any idea where we are?"

The blonde woman glanced around at the wooded area. The Friday night wasn't terribly late which explained the other individuals who walked on the paths. Despite the darkness the area seemed so very full of life. Cassie tilted her head to the side.

"Actually, yes," she replied slowly before looking over to Kelsey. "Why are we here, by the way? I'm the one who likes running on the trails. You all think I'm insane for doing it."

Kelsey beamed back. "Bench! Sitting and having a powwow!"

The words should have made sense but Cassandra remained confused. Sara, however, had locked onto the idea of sitting and joined Kelsey's plan without a second's hesitation. Grabbing Cass's hand, Kelse tugged Amanda along until they came to a bench. Amanda sat on one end with Kelsey beside her, and Cassandra on the other edge with Sara between she and Kelsey. Despite seating four none of them were particularly cramped.

Glancing down, Cass picked at the edge of her skirt. It was a distraction from the words she wasn't certain she wanted to ask.

Why bother? Why go through this at all? No cajoling would be capable of coaxing her into a better mood. A better place would come with the journey. Turning her pensive gaze to her friends, she wondered if these women understood that.

She sighed, leaning forward and leaving the hem of her skirt alone spread on the bench beside her. It wouldn't do to try to measure her suffering against what others had experienced. Covering her face in her hands, she felt the uncomfortable tension in the silence that had descended.

"Damn it," Kelsey said after a moment, her tone dejected. "Sorry. I guess this didn't go quite the way I planned."

"Inferring you had a plan," Sara needled from beside her.

Cassandra saw no need to bother replying. Listening to the friendly quarrel that was happening next to her she let the sheer normality of the scene sink in. With their backs to the path they could stare into the woods before them. The path continued on to wind among the trees though it seemed that tonight few people had taken that option. Not a romantic date in the middle of January, Cass surmised.

Shifting her hands so they cupped her chin as she leaned forward the blonde shut her eyes. The conversation of her friends muted beside her. It was familiar noise, it was comfortable noise and the aching familiarity seemed to ease the tension in her heart. Feet scuffled on the path as others passed by.

Perhaps it was the distraction she needed.

Quietly reaching over to sling an arm across her friends' shoulders, she could only reach Amanda's with the tips of her fingers. Still, brushing it lightly and letting the weight settle on Kelsey and Sara, Cassie turned to them as her eyes opened, nodding slightly.

"Thank you." The words were quiet, only punctuated by the weight of her arm that remained settled on her friends. "I'm sorry," she began, expression earnest. "It means so much to me that you're trying so hard to help… I just. I don't know if I want to be helped."

In her sage way it was Amanda who replied. She reached up and rested her hand over Cassie's, squeezing it lightly. "No," she agreed. "Not now. I don't want to fix you, Cass. You're remarkable the way you are. But we just thought you needed to know how loved you were."

Swallowing away the pressure of emotion in the back of her throat Cassandra settled back into her own space. Folding her arms in her lap, she shut her eyes and folded over again to rest her elbows on her knees. The pensive posture was more relaxed than anything she had managed to attain that evening.

Her gesture was a quiet indication for the others to quiet themselves and recede into their own thoughts. Minutes passed by and very little changed. Amanda's head rested on Kelsey's shoulder and she appeared to be dozing. Sara was quietly braiding pieces of string from her scarf while Kelsey casually undid everything her friend had completed.

Beside them Cassandra was content to stare out into the wilder portion of the park. The time must have been something just past eight, she figured. Nearby, a movie theater was set to finish a showing at eight and all the patrons leaving would have explained the influx of individuals and noise.

Forcibly pushing those things out of her awareness, she shut her eyes. The steady sound of her heartbeat in her ears was the metronome by which she measured her breathing. Slowing both gradually she sought the calm that she had been missing all these days past. It wouldn't be quickly in coming, Cass knew. Nor would healing.

Learning to live with that hurt, though, was something she could do.

Together, the four women seemed perfectly content to remain lost in their own meditations in proximity to one another. Peace was not going to linger, however.

It was Kelsey who first identified the problem. Lacking the coherency to vocalize it, the woman leapt to her feet and darted towards Cassandra. Amanda nearly fell off the bench and spent precious seconds trying to reorient herself. Sara turned as Kelse passed and her features adopted the same expression of horror.

Seconds? Minutes? Time slowed to the point where it was only measured a heartbeat at a time.

A scream disturbed the quiet of the night air.

Shifting sharply to the open part of the bench, Cassandra sought to escape the agonizing heat. Panic blurred the recognition of the fact that it followed her. Gasping in agony, she realized that the scream had been hers.

More seconds blurred by.

A heartbeat. Another.

The cadence increased as Amanda struggled with the buttons of her wool coat, fighting to shuck it off. Precious, precious time.

Throwing it down on the flames, the woman savagely beat at the fire in an attempt to extinguish them. In shock, Cassandra's hands joined the fray. She didn't register the fact that Kelsey had already pulled out a cellphone, calling the emergency line for help.

Cass couldn't register anything.

Was she hot?

Was she cold?

Looking at Amanda helplessly, the blonde woman shuddered out a sob. Amanda carefully reached out to trace her friend's cheek with the backs of her fingers. Dimly Cass heard her croon quietly in an attempt to steady her.

As shock overtook her, Cassandra's vision greyed at the edges and she swayed unsteadily. From behind her she felt Sara's hands draw her back so she leaned against her standing friend. Amanda stabilized her from the side.

Those hands were the last thing that Cass could recall as everything went black.


	17. Out of the Ashes

January 28-29, 2012

Cassandra ground her teeth as her jaw clenched. Staring blankly up at the sterile white ceiling the young woman endeavored to remain motionless. Down by her left leg, a nurse carefully peeled away the dressing that had overnight, come to adhere to the still open sections of the burns.

The very act of peeling the gauze away from the wound was excruciating. Her breath hitched even as the woman attempted to be gentle in her movements. Removing the dirtied bandages, the professionally dressed woman reached out to rest her hand over Cassie's.

"Done for now," Lisa Williams said quietly. "You're doing excellently."

Cass gave her a surly stare. Bedridden and stuck in virtually one position for more than a week was the farthest thing from doing excellently that she could have contemplated. The look was a speaking one and evoked a compassionate smile from the day nurse that had bonded with the young woman over the past eight days.

"Cassandra, you have to realize that the normal healing time on full thickness grafts are ten days, easily. You've already had two grafting procedures that are healed virtually to the point where you could be released."

Clearly a poor patient, Cassie wasn't placated. "So why aren't I leaving?"

Lisa leaned lightly against the bedrail that Cassandra so loathed. She sighed, looking down at the girl unsure of how to speak the answers that her patient sought. The doctors had relayed the necessary information already but the impact of it had rolled off of Cassie's shoulders.

It wasn't much of a surprise she thought, in her professional opinion. When Cassandra Moore had come into the hospital on the ambulance the situation was critical. Nearly ten percent of the patient's body had experienced severe third degree burning. The entire length of her outside and upper left thigh had burned. So had the outside of her hip, and it had started to creep over her abdomen as well. The patient's hands were blistered – a second degree burn, not as terrible as those elsewhere on her body.

Her life had been saved by her friend's wool coat extinguishing the flames. While the police had identified the fire start as a cigarette butt carelessly flicked by a nearby pedestrian, no report so casually written could relay the enormity of the damage. Lisa was glad she hadn't been there. The night staff still shuddered at the memory. The synthetic blend of fabric that her skirt had been made out of ignited quickly – but once burning, it had not turned to ash. It had melted and adhered to the young woman's skin.

Removing it had been agonizing. Treating it had been agonizing. Cassandra Moore had needed a series of full thickness skin grafts, but with the burns affecting portions of her body that they would have normally taken skin from they were forced to spread them out, go slowly and wait for her body to begin healing itself as well.

The body would heal. The mind.. that, Lisa was less certain of.

"The last graft is tomorrow. You need to keep your legs elevated for at least a week which generally means staying in the hospital for that duration of time. Depending on the size and thickness the surgeons require you may be discharged within three days. Be patient, Cassandra. Give your body time to rest."

Her words were met with a surly glance. What that meant Lisa couldn't adeptly interpret but she was more than content to assume that the young woman had decided to take her words to heart. Straightening to leave the room, she paused at the door and looked back at the figure on the bed.

That someone so bright and full of life had been reduced to such a shell of bitterness was heartbreaking. She had lost all control over her own life. Relying on others to do even the most menial of tasks had to be damaging for the independent spirit. Lisa mused consideringly. While Cass wasn't cleared to attempt walking quite so soon there were still other things that could be restored to her control.

"A physical therapist will be stopping by sometime in the afternoon," Lisa informed Cassandra brusquely. The blonde woman looked at the nurse, startled. That hadn't been on the day's schedule.

"They'll be working with you on your own mobility and flexibility. Without full function of that leg for some time you'll have to compensate without doing additional harm to your body."

Cass just blinked up at her, baffled by the information. Lisa simply waved and exited into the hallway, returning to her rounds and attending to other patients. The silence that ticked by was agonizing. Laying her head back on the hospital issue pillow, Cassandra turned her cheek into it so that she might stare out the window.

The sky was grey although no snow fell. Lacking the bright sunlight, her white walled room seemed equally dreary. There was no spirit nor life to invigorate the day with. Thoroughly depressed, Cassie simply shut her eyes. At least if she were asleep the passing time wouldn't seem so interminable.

How long she slept she couldn't say. The rap at the door was certainly what had woken her, though. Opening her eyes to see the tall, older man who stood in the doorframe she carefully pulled herself up. The movement made her leg twinge with pain though the discomfort wasn't betrayed on her features. Cass simply watched the man with a quiet awareness.

It was a waiting game. Both were clearly inclined to let the other make the proverbial first leap. It was also a game that Cassandra Moore excelled in. With her level, unblinking stare it was the gentleman who gave in first.

"Good afternoon," he remarked fondly, stepping into the room. "I'm Robert Davis."

The introduction told her all of absolutely nothing. Thoroughly unimpressed, Cass settled back against her pillows. "Cassandra Moore." It was a short response but her curt words seemed more telling than a lengthy reply might have been.

Robert stopped at the foot of her bed, taking her chart in hand. The seconds that passed only served to fuel Cass's ire. The number of doctors and nurses who had stood perusing that clipboard without any regard for the person in the bed was galling. Biting back her temper, her arms folded carefully over her chest as she watched him pointedly.

"Right," he said, letting the charts settle back down. "I'm Robert. We're going to work on your mobility. Most of what I'm showing you will be simple strength exercises. Once your grafts have healed sufficiently you'll graduate to flexibility to make sure the skin itself remains tensile but until that point you're under strict orders not to overextend the area."

She knew that. The flat look she gave him relayed the sentiment. "Alright," Cass replied quietly.

"Do you have any questions?"

The young woman simply shook her head. Stymied by her lack of communication, the physical therapist pulled a chair up next to the bed. The bag that he had carried in over his shoulder was dropped on the floor and various charts were shuffled out from folders. As he spread the papers carefully out over her bed, Cassandra straightened to sit up, peering down at them.

Time that had so dragged was all too pleased to pass swiftly in the face of something different. Robert Davis spoke of various muscle groups and the difference between strength training and endurance training for muscles. More interesting to her though were the long strips of tensile rubber. Some stretched effortlessly. Others were less giving. It took more strength to draw her arms apart while holding onto those.

Leaving her with the tools, exercises and diagrams Robert Davis left an hour after he had entered the room.

It only felt as if he had been there for fifteen minutes. Staring at the clock helplessly as the revelation that she had hours to go before any other person would return to her room, Cassandra pulled over the table that rotated around but would not rest on her lap. Booting the laptop up that was placed there she waited for the familiar lights to flicker on.

Mindlessly clicking into her email, she stared at the blank white composition page. How could she write these things? How could she share what needed to be said?  
 _  
Dear Jane,_

_I don't know if you know or not.. Amanda might have told you. I don't know if anyone's actually thinking anymore. God. I'm not. Sorry if this is so.. strange. It sounds like a ridiculous story to me, and I'm the one it actually happened to._

_I miss you, Jane. I don't know if I ever said thank you for coming the day of Mom's funeral. It meant so very much to me. I don't know what I would have done without you. Even though you were only able to stay three days, it helped. You helped._

_After you left though things got bad. I just.. I don't know. I didn't want to do anything. Life seemed exhausting. Honestly, it still does. Every little thing seems to require more energy than I could possibly have. Each day is daunting._

_That started to scare the girls here. Amanda, Kelsey and Sara. You know Sara – you taught her at one point, and I know you keep in touch occasionally with Amanda. Anyway. They.. I guess they wanted me back. Not the way I was, they all know that's not possible. But they just wanted me to stop shutting everyone out of my life, so we went out to dinner about a week ago._

_Afterwards we sat and talked in the park. The movies had just let out so the foot traffic was characteristically dense. Lots of people walk the paths. Shortcuts, you know?_

_I guess someone had been smoking and flicked the cigarette butt away, expecting it to fall off the path into the snow. It landed on my skirt… and Jane, it burned. I'm alright._

_Well, sort of alright. I'm going to be alright?_

_I've had two skin grafts. There were third degree burns over all but the inside of my left thigh, over my right hip, abdomen and lower back on my left side. My hands are still healing. Amanda threw her coat over it and.. well. The fire was put out but I don't know what to do, Jane._

_I've been stuck in the hospital since then. I'm sorry for not telling you earlier but I didn't know what to say. How to say it. My last graft is tomorrow and they're not certain how long I'll have to stay after. I need to have it dressed for two weeks but that's something I can do myself. I need to keep off my feet for ten days afterwards though. I'm so bored of being in bed, Jane, I can't even begin to tell you._

_My only consolation is that I can read the books for my classes and even if it's just for an hour, be taken away from this miserable state that I'm stuck in. The stories and the people are beautiful._

_There's something I wanted to ask you._

_I know that you said that I could stay with you for as long as I'd like, the day of my Mother's funeral. Did you mean it, Jane? Can I? I need to leave this place. Half of them stare at me as if I'm some pitiable creature that should be managed gingerly and the other half watch me as if they anticipate my having a mental break any day now, as if I were some sort of rabid beast._

_I guess they may not be far off but.. I just need a change, Jane. I know it's an imposition and if you're not comfortable with it, maybe you could help me find an apartment for lease that I could get under contract?_

_Either way, I'd appreciate your help.._

_I love you, Jane. I just wanted to let you know that._

_From,_

_Cassie_

The email was longer than she had meant it to be, Cass thought ruefully. The possibility of being able to 'speak' without concern of someone's response was liberating. She sighed. Letting the message send and shutting off the computer, she pulled over a book and flipped it open.

Words carried her away well past dinner and into the late night. For the first time in days she found that falling asleep wasn't a trial.

Waking up the next morning however, was. Blearily rubbing her eyes as Lisa cheerfully greeted her good morning, Cass simply stared at the other woman. Shaking her head to try to wake her cognitive functions, she pulled over her phone to check the time. While it was obscenely early in Michigan – only just past five – it seemed that someone had sent an email to her phone an hour and a half ago.

Only one person would have been capable of doing that. Time zones, at least, were a comforting thing. Clicking into it and opening the message, Cassandra couldn't contain her smile.

_Of course you can stay, stupid. Let me know if you need help planning the travel. If you don't, let me know when to expect you. I won't plan for your departure._

There was no sign off to the reply. Grinning at the tartness that was characteristic Jane, she put the phone back down and looked at Lisa. The nurse was watching her curiously although she didn't seem inclined to ask. For the first time though, she saw a flicker of the person that her patient might have been.

Cassandra Moore had bright eyes and a kind smile. Lines in her face faded away to show her as the young woman she truly was. Lisa couldn't help but smile back.

"Come on, early bird," the nurse chided as she began to wheel the bed out of the room. "Last time you'll have to do this. When you come out of it, this part of your life will be done."

Looking up at her, Cass smiled wryly. There, again, was a glimmer of who the young woman used to be. "Don't say that," she replied. "Tell me that after it's over, alright? Right now my faith in good luck is at an all time low."

Lisa Williams laughed and nodded. No one could fault Cassandra Moore for that. Prepping her for the surgery went swiftly and in a matter of minutes the procedure was under way. Let this be the last, the nurse thought. If there was any fairness in the world, let this be the last.

Waking up from the general anesthesia left Cass with a fuzzy feeling in her mouth and muddled thoughts. Even before she opened her eyes she registered that. Swallowing away the dryness, Cassie noted the new ache from the donor site for the graft. For the first time in more than a week though the dressings around her leg didn't feel as if they had adhered to an open wound.

She almost wept with relief.

The compression bandages were unpleasant, but a more tolerable nuisance than the debriding of burn wounds. She exhaled slowly. Her mind was starting to clear itself up and she found herself capable of registering other things.

Her right hand was warm. With both arms resting over the bedding the left was carefully placed to keep it away from the surgical site. Her right was normally left folded over her abdomen or right beside her hip. Now however it was resting near the edge of the mattress.

She was still consumed with the realization of how warm it was.

Cass opened her eyes slowly as her vision refocused. Grimacing slightly at her discombobulation she turned her cheek into the pillow to let her gaze drift over to the right.

She was shocked at what she saw.

The hospital chairs were far from comfortable. Her friends and family had relayed that fact readily. It didn't seem to bother the man lounging in it, though. He sat with his legs spread, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. His forearms were braced against the mattress and his head rested on the bed beside her knee.

And her hand was so carefully clasped in his.

All that Cassandra could think of in the wake of such an endearing scene, however, was the fact that Tom Hiddleston was in her hospital room and she hadn't had a real shower in far, far too long.


	18. Without Words

January 29

For the first time that she could remember Cassandra was glad for the relatively itchy state of her throat. She couldn't have managed words even if she had wanted to. She didn't even know what words she would have said. Staring down at Tom as he seemed content to remain laying over the edge of her bed, the young woman wondered if she blinked enough the vision would disappear as if it had all been a peculiar dream.

Cass hadn't realized his own eyes were open and fixed on hers in return. What she had thought to have been a man, sleeping, had only been a man resting. The hand wrapped around hers squeezed lightly as he straightened in the chair beside the bed.

It was a kind indication of wakefulness that Cassie had needed to realize that he was aware. Her eyes opened wider and met his, lips parting slightly in shock. A rueful smile met her stunned expression.

Lisa Williams bustling through the door spared her from trying to express her surprise. "Right on time," she chirped happily, smiling at the sight of her patient's awareness.

Privately Cassandra agreed. The nurse had been right on time. In time, enough to save her from any attempt at conversation. Offering the woman a wry smile as she glanced down at the hand that was still in Tom's possession. Without it she couldn't very well pull herself up to a seated position. The logistical challenges didn't seem to be bothering any of the others.

Lisa came over to the bedside and pressed the button for the mattress to incline which slowly changed Cassie's perspective of the world. It also made her painfully aware of the fact that she hadn't had a real shower in a very, very long time. Looking at the long hair that fell over her shoulders as she was sat up Cass couldn't help but cringe. A hospital gown, IVs and an overall rumpled presentation was not how she wanted to be seen by anyone.

Should that anyone be Tom, the desire to avoid that became even more desperate. She cast a helpless glance in Lisa's direction, praying the nurse would evacuate the room.

Rotten traitor that the woman was, she simply handed Cass a glass of water before smiling at Tom. "Give her a moment," the nurse commented kindly. "It's hard to come out of it sometimes. I'll be back to check on you in a bit, alright Cassie? Tom, if there's any problems don't hesitate to call me."

Cass wondered if "strange man in a hospital room" constituted as a problem. Wondering if security could be convinced to evict him from the chair, she figured that it wasn't worth putting her money on the losing bet. Looking at the table next to the left side of her bed she cringed at the thought of rotating onto that side of her body.

Biting her lip awkwardly, she sighed. "Would you mind-?" She nodded to the table, hand shaking slightly as she held the glass out to him.

Instead of releasing her hand from his, Tom simply took the water in his free hand and set it down. "Sorry," he murmured quietly. "I'm such a tit sometimes. I can't wrap my mind around this. Hadn't realized you couldn't get anything from that side."

She swallowed away the bitterness. If he couldn't fathom it then it still being beyond her comprehension seemed entirely permissible. Instead Cass shrugged slightly as if to try to brush it off. Sensing the awkwardness, Tom scooted the chair away from the bed as he unfolded his long legs to stand. Lacing his fingers through her limp hand he carefully lifted their joined hands to clear the space by her hip. He perched on the edge of the mattress, not quite sitting with his full weight.

There was a level of intimacy to it that Cassandra didn't know how to compute. She looked wildly at the door wondering if a nurse would so conveniently interrupt them again. Finding that hope dashed, she looked up at Tom, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

"I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" Why? How? The questions were endless. Cass supposed she should have guessed that the answers were even more varied. She shook her head in confusion, looking up at Tom with an expression that she could feel was disturbingly vulnerable.

He sighed, running his free hand across what Cassie finally identified as uncharacteristically stubbly cheeks. The fingers migrated to tug distractedly at his hair. She was beginning to identify this as his thinking gesture. When his hand trailed back down to rub over his lips absently, she squeezed her hand lightly around the one of his that was holding it. It seemed to bring him back to earth as he looked at her without a hint of his characteristic good humor.

"It's a long story," he began. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him.

"I have nothing but time if you hadn't noticed." The waspish retort evoked a rueful look from the English man as he nodded his head somewhat sheepishly.

"I had meant to try to catch up with you after the War Horse premiere." The admission was unembarrassed, and Cass surmised this wasn't the part of the story that he would have struggled to tell. "When I finally managed the free time, though, I knew that you would already be teaching."

She turned her eyes down to the covers of the hospital bed. Her left hand was out of her field of vision but Cassandra could see the two that were laced together, beside the length of his thigh that rested on the bed from how he sat. She wondered if now would have been the time to tell him that she had left just after.

Looking up and opening her mouth to try to say something, she was stymied by fingers tracing gently from her cheek down her neck.

"No, Cassandra," Tom murmured quietly. "No. Let me finish."

She nodded.

"When I tried to get in touch with Jane she never picked up the line. I only tried again last..Oh, God. What time is it? Jet lag is killing me," he admitted ruefully, laughing wryly at himself. "Last night, likely. She told me everything." The hand that traveled down her neck rested on her shoulder as he bent down. Cassandra stared up at him with wide eyes.

He brushed a light kiss over the crown of her head before straightening again, letting both hands fall back into his lap.

"There are no words," Tom said softly as he shook his head. "No words. I didn't know what to say to you. I don't. But I can be here with you. For you."

Cassie wondered if there was a response that she was meant to give. Her eyes dropped to the bedspread as the awkward silence fell between them. He had acknowledged that which she still didn't know how to put to words. That helplessness and the loss of coherency that she had struggled with only reared its head more impressively now. Cass swallowed reflexively as her throat clenched uncomfortably.

Her eyes burned. She knew the threat of tears lingered.

Looking up at him Cassandra shrugged carefully. Helplessly. "Say nothing," she replied softly, her voice raspy and thick with emotion. "It seems that everyone else finds it most appropriate."

Meeting his eyes with a clarity that was nearly painful to maintain how long quiet settled between them after her nearly bitter admission neither of them could have said. They couldn't count the seconds, nor the heartbeats. Her own pale blue stare was met by his own intensely bright eyes. While it was Cassandra who felt on the verge of tears emotion she couldn't comprehend looked back at her.

"Oh, darling girl," Tom murmured quietly, carefully releasing her hand and situating himself with a careful awareness of someone handling something fragile. "Sweet girl." His thumb settled gently on her cheekbone, his other fingers curving softly around her face to thread into her hair.

His was a calloused hand, Cass absently noted. The skin was chapped and defined in a way that someone who had been doing manual work recently only could have attained. Feeling his thumb softly, repeatedly brush against her cheek she found the texture a pleasant one. It was strong. It was comforting.

"No words, then," Tom added somewhat absently. His eyes dropped from hers to her lips, briefly. The inches between them closed so easily, so quietly. The touch seemed a natural progression.

Steadying her own startled response to the encroachment in her personal space with the hand on her cheek, Tom's lips gently coaxed Cassandra's to soften. After days in a climate controlled hospital room and suffering an inability to regulate her own body temperature the young woman was struck at how scalding the contact was.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned up into the kiss. His mastery of it was subtle. Neither sought to deepen the gesture, to dominate it but it was clearly Tom leading the progression. His other hand reached up from her side to thread into her loose hair, carefully cradling her head in his hands.

Neither heard the door open. However Cassandra certainly couldn't miss the words that came after.

"What the hell are you doing, Cassandra?"

Startled to the point of her eyes flicking open in shock the young woman tensed. Far slower to react, Tom reluctantly pulled his lips away from the young woman's. Letting his hands drop to his sides it seemed that the Englishman reacted to the venom in the words that had been spat out.

Cassie, too, had responded to it. Turning abruptly towards the door she tried to ignore the abrasive pain that threaded through her psyche as she placed pressure on her grafts. Aware of her flinching, Tom placed a hand on her shoulder as he skirted the foot of the bed to stand between Cassandra and the figure standing in the door.

"I might inquire the same of you," Tom replied, his voice coolly polite. While he didn't recognize the man in the doorway he had little inclination to deal with the bloke's accusing stare towards the blonde in the hospital bed.

"Why the fuck are you here!?" Her voice from behind Tom's figure cracked in shock and stress as it raised throughout the span of the sentence. Struggling to pull herself even straighter in the bed in an attempt to be at less of a disadvantage, Cass only managed to further antagonize the sensitive healing area.

Turning and putting his back to the unfamiliar man, Tom looked down at Cassandra. Her palpable shock and distaste only vindicated his rapidly deteriorating mood. Gently stroking the cheek that his hand had rested on moments ago, he gave her a reassuring look.

"What the fuck is going on here," the man pressed from the doorway.

Inhaling steadily in a bid to steady her nerves Cassie looked up and met Tom's eyes with a gaze that was briefly akin to helplessness. Shutting her eyes and exhaling slowly, her chin dropped to her sternum.

"Richard, Tom. Tom, Richard. Richard, leave. I don't want you here. I don't even know why you're here."

The young woman's voice was level and devoid of emotion. Her introductions were a mockery of the situation but it served to offer her some regained control of what had been going on. Opening her eyes and letting her head fall back on the pillow Cass watched as Tom turned and took a half step away from the bed, nearer to the man.

"Cassandra requested you leave," Tom began mildly, his tone a mocking attempt at politeness. "Please do so."

"Not before I learn what the fuck is going on here. Who the hell are you? Cass, why the hell were you kissing him? Are you really such a who-"

"You had best not finish that," Tom interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing.

As Richard moved to reply both men's stances only got more aggressive. However any response was stymied by the nurse, Lisa Williams, bustling back into the room. She sized the events in seconds with a calculating eye. It wasn't hard to do when there were two angry men and a woman pale with discomfort left on a bed behind them.

Cass's hand rested on the call button that would summon a nurse should she depress it. From Lisa's response it was apparent that she had.

"Out." Her voice was firm as she pushed past Tom to check Cassandra's vital signs. She didn't need to see either man to interpret their silence as mutiny. "Both of you, out. If you can't give my patient the peace she needs for her recovery, you can leave. Now."

From where she lay Cassandra could see Richard leave the room, fuming. Tom paused and glanced at her. Meeting his eyes, she nodded slightly. The silent communication was affirmation enough, and he left without protest.

Hearing the door latch shut behind both men, Lisa looked down at the girl and moved towards her IV bag.

"Now there's a scene," she remarked mildly.

"Hardly," Cass retorted as she shut her eyes in exhaustion. "Man is a dick and interrupts something he doesn't understand. Not dickish man takes exception to dickish behavior."

"Ah, but there you've admitted – he interrupted something between you and your young man."

"He isn't my young man," Cassandra objected heatedly.

Lisa laughed, writing numbers down in the blonde's chart. Seconds ticked by as a kind smile settled on the nurse's features. "He would be if you wanted him," she commented after a moment. "He certainly would like to be able to have you as his young woman."

The speaking look that Cassie gave her as she opened her eyes to glare at the nurse only made Lisa grin more widely. Cass had no wish to give her any encouragement.

"He's too kind," she whispered quietly as she turned her gaze to stare back out the window again. "Much kinder than I deserve."

Lisa shook her head. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative so you can sleep this off a little longer. All that activity's disturbed the grafting area and I imagine it's significantly uncomfortable. By the time you come around again it all should be alleviated though."

Sighing, Cassandra nodded. For a moment she had been able to forget. Forget it all. She had forgotten those very new defining features of her nature that made her distinct. She had forgotten that her mother had died. She had forgotten that she was virtually crippled for the foreseeable future.

As Tom had kissed her, she had only been Cass. And in those seconds, she had been cherished, been safe, been loved.

Looking down at the blonde as she drifted off to sleep, Lisa sighed ruefully. "If anyone deserves kindness," she murmured quietly, reaching down to smooth Cass's hair into some order on the pillow, "I know no one more deserving than you."

Pulling the flannel blanket up over her patient the nurse tucked it carefully around her before turning back to the door. Sighing as she slowly pulled it open Lisa looked out to see only one of the young men waiting in the hallway. Rolling her eyes, she waved him in.

Tom warily stepped around the nurse and back to Cassandra's bedside. Looking down at the sleeping woman for a moment he looked inquiringly back to Lisa.

"She'll sleep for a few hours," Lisa informed him as she shut the door behind her. Leaning casually back against it she crossed her arms to stare contemplatively at the man who had stayed. "What was that dustup about, anyway?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Tom replied as he reached down to run a hand carefully down Cass's forearm. "I don't even know who he is other than a name. She called him Richard."

After hours of casual conversation with Cassandra, Lisa was capable of identifying the name immediately. Sighing, she let her head fall back to thud solidly against the glass window of the door.

"He's her ex. Apparently she broke up with him a few months ago. Why he came.. God. I don't even know. As if she hasn't had a rough enough time of it." Despite her apparently relaxed posture the nurse's attention was still keenly fixed on the Englishman.

"Conveniently it's worth asking you the same. Why are you here?"

She had been polite enough in the inquiry but the intent was all the same. The pointed question demanded an answer. Tom didn't look up from where he stood, gazing pensively down at the woman sleeping on the bed.

"It's where I had to go," he replied lowly. The answer didn't satisfy the nurse, who made a noise of discontent. Tom laughed ruefully. "It's something I had to do," he attempted to elaborate. "I asked a mutual friend about her the other day. I heard what had happened. How much can one person endure? How much should they have to bear on their own? Even if I can't fix it, can't help anything that's been done.. I can care."

Lisa averted her eyes to give them some semblance of privacy. Tom had taken a seat in the chair beside the bed once more. As she turned her gaze away he was leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against her cheek.

"She deserves kindness." It was a quiet admission, softer than the words he had spoken. Opening the door to leave, Lisa glanced over her shoulder. The sight of the young man bowed over the bedside of her patient was a picture that she would remember for years after. "Kindness, and care, and love."

"She inspires it," Tom replied lowly. "She doesn't seem to know it, either. The more you see of her, the harder it is not to love her."

There. That was it. Nodding in satisfaction at the reply, Lisa made to leave the room. "See that you don't forget it." The brusque instruction was emphasized by the quiet click of the door behind her.

Looking bemusedly at the strange exchange, Tom shook his head slightly. Threading his fingers through Cassandra's he sighed and settled back into the chair as he studied her features. He didn't know if it was possible to forget such a thing.


	19. Chapter 19

February 9, 2012

Coming off the plane in New York was a special sort of excruciating that Cassandra Moore couldn't quite correctly compare to anything she had ever experienced before. It was more than the body wide ache that running gave her if she had taken too much time off or pushed herself too far. The very specific nature of her hurts made them all the more intolerable.

Perhaps Lisa and Amanda had been right, Cass thought ruefully. She wasn't up to travel so soon. While the first two of the grafts she had received had healed to the point of merely requiring careful awareness and not being actively defensive about the site, the third and last of the grafting procedures she had underwent was still altogether too tender to be so flippant about. The donor sites for all three skin locations were likewise, uncomfortable.

The flight from Detroit to New York had been just under two hours. It would be seven hours from JFK airport to Heathrow. Steeling her jaw, Cassandra endeavored not to whimper at the thought. The layover would be time enough to recuperate.

Of course she had failed to take into account the necessity of navigating the airport. Looking at the terminal and gate numbers on her connecting flight the young woman only sighed. At least she had more than an hour and a half before that flight would take off. Making her way to the different terminal would be a process.

Navigating the heavily populated airport was a trial. Each step was moderately uncomfortable, pulling at skin that still didn't feel quite right. The compression bandages limited her range of movement as well. Cassie paused in a relatively isolated corner and leaned heavily on the handle of her baggage. It was small enough to be a stow-away carry on, but now she was more than thrilled to have kept it with her simply as use of a crutch.

She blinked away the stinging tears of frustration. Breathing away the emotion, Cassandra wiped her eyes. She could do this. She chose to do this. Something so mundane as navigating an airport wouldn't defeat her. She had come too far for this.

In lieu of the collapsible crutches that were packed in the luggage she toted with her, the tall blonde used her suitcase as an aid to her walking. The sooner she could get to security the better off she would be. If the staff in Detroit had been challenging to work with, she expected those in New York to be even more so. Her expression soured at the memory of the TSA agents. Despite the medical card she provided, the experience had still been unpleasant.

Finally making it to the security lines that would permit her into the next terminal Cassandra sighed. While the lines were long it would, at least, give her enough time to regain her stamina. Beads of perspiration collected on her face from the strain of exerting herself.

While the line crept forward slowly she let her mind wander. It would be lovely to see Jane again. Richard's growing insistence to gain admittance to her hospital room was beyond maddening to try to cope with. Likewise, her father's dismissive perspective of her decision to return to her education was intolerable. Samantha had long since disappeared to the east coast with friends. There was no reason to struggle through the isolation of Northern Michigan on her own.

She owed no one, anything.

For you, Mother, Cassandra had thought briefly at the time of her decision. She would try to be happy, and live well in Susan Moore's memory. At the moment, it necessitated finding comfort in the company of someone who had always been able to understand.

Pressing her lips in a firm line as she realized it was her turn to attempt to navigate the security check Cassandra limped forward. Placing her baggage on the platform was challenging enough. Turning to the middle aged woman to offer her the medical card that explained both the paraphernalia in her luggage and the bandaging wrapping and bracing Cassie's own body, she realized it would be a fight. The woman's expression was tight and irritated.

She had no desire to work with the infirm woman. Repeatedly, Cassandra was informed that she would be provided a private location to be searched instead.

Closing her eyes as she felt color creep into her cheeks, Cass turned her frustrated gaze to the floor for a moment. Attempting to tune the woman out she wondered for a moment if she wasn't losing her mind. From behind her a voice seemed to be calling out her name. At first, she dismissed it.

Seconds later, when it was called out more insistently, Cassie straightened and turned gingerly. As her eyes swept the people in the lines that waited impatiently one head stood out above all the rest.

Tom was swiftly moving towards her, one other individual in tow. He had the appearance of the administrative type, she mused briefly before she found herself taken up by Tom's proximity. Smiling ruefully she nodded a quiet greeting to him. Instead of being appeased by that, the man looked at the agent beside the American girl.

"Now, let's have none of this," he remarked amiably, noting the medical card that Cassandra had been attempting to extend to the other woman. Taking it from Cass, he pressed it into the agent's hands. "It seems that this is neatly cleared up, now, isn't it?"

Taken aback at how adroitly he dealt with it, his easy smile and polite approach to the people smoothing any indignant nerves. As the TSA agent nodded slightly and waved Cassandra through, she carefully picked her way through the screeners and made her way to collect the suitcase where it waited for her after its own screening.

As she reached out to pull it off the table a hand gently pressed her down. Stopping by her side, Tom effortlessly lifted it down to the ground. His bright blue eyes had watched her labored gait, seen the twinges of discomfort that had flickered across her features as she attempted to remain mobile.

Stubborn woman, he thought fondly. Proud woman.

"Here now," he said easily, maintaining a hold on it. Even as Cassandra stared pointedly at the hand that didn't relinquish her luggage, Tom continued to speak.

"It's good to see you again."

Cass wondered about that. Her last recollection of the man was that shared glance as Lisa had banished them both from the hospital room. By the time she had woken, the man had left. Business had called and while she couldn't begrudge him the departure, she hadn't wondered if it would be the last she saw of him.

"Happy coincidence," Cassandra replied flippantly, still looking down at the suitcase she did not have in her possession. "Not that it isn't nice to see you – particularly when I'm again vertical – but I wouldn't want to make you late. Thank you for your help, but I'm sure I can manage navigating to a gate without any form of catastrophe."

Tom laughed, the broad grin he flashed at her nearly demolishing her thought process. Looking over the American girl's shoulder to the man that stopped behind her, the one who had followed Tom through security, he took a step back to make the small group's conversation more inclusive.

"Luke Windsor, this is Cassandra Moore. Cass, this is my publicist, Luke Windsor."

The man who appeared to be around Tom's age offered a hand. Pressing a polite smile on her fatigued expression, Cassandra took it carefully, shaking it delicately before tucking her hand back to her side.

"Nice to meet you," she replied quietly, uncertain how to read this relatively stoic young man. He replied in kind before giving a pointed look to the Englishman who had so waylaid them all.

"Sorry," Cass interrupted hurriedly. "I don't mean to be a bother.. Tom, it really is lovely seeing you but… Planes to catch and the like, I'm sure."

The tall man glanced down at her, still failing to release her suitcase. Cassie wondered if it could have been considered a hostage situation at this point. Maybe it was collateral? She was nearly tempted to ask him straight out.

"Where are you headed?"

It was a blunt question and not the end to an interaction as Cassandra had anticipated. Attempting to process the abrupt about face in sentiment she blinked briefly, mind struggling to catch up.

"Heathrow airport. I'll be staying with Jane for a while," she cautiously replied.

It appeared to be the correct answer to a test that she hadn't realized she was taking. Tom straightened, features alit with pleasure.

"Excellent."

Cassandra took a moment to glance at Luke. While Tom seemed determined to speak a language she couldn't quite comprehend, it seemed that his publicist hadn't been lost in the jumble of words that made no sense to her. His expression was thoughtful, and he nodded in acknowledgement of Tom's words.

"I can take that," Luke pointed out, nodding at the suitcase.

Cass blinked again, eyes whirling back to Tom who seemed pleased by this train of thought. Both men had steamrolled the situation to the point that she had no notion of what was going on.

"I'm sorry." The interjection was firm albeit polite. Her words demanded acknowledgement. "What precisely was decided in some obscure man-speak that I wasn't privy to?"

Her arch tones were presented in her best teacher-speak that she could manage. It was not unkind, though the chiding nature of the query implied that failure to answer would incur dire consequences.

Luke Windsor seemed taken aback by the steel from the blonde woman who had seemed so haggard and fatigued mere moments ago. Then again, all he had seen of the American was her polite conversations.

As Tom chuckled, impervious to her veiled displeasure it was the other man who answered.

"We're all headed to the same place," he said with a polite smile. "It's only polite to offer help to someone that we're effectively conscripting into our travel plans."

It was well put, Cassandra acknowledged. Clearly he was used to managing words and people. However, aware of mechanisms of manipulation the high school teacher wasn't placated. Her accord however seemed unnecessary. Luke was now in possession of the pack that had her folded up crutches and she watched him walk on ahead, with any implement that might have aided her walking in tow.

She was struck both by a sharp bite of temper at the same time as helplessness swept over her. The idea of making it all the way to the gate without something to lean on was more than daunting: it seemed impossible.

Lost in her own thoughts, Cassandra Moore was more than shocked when she found herself carefully cradled in Tom's arms. He wrapped his right arm under her knees. The firm hand and arm settled in such a way that she knew he was avoiding disturbing the compression bandages that covered her grafts. His other hand bracketed the right side of her ribcage, his forearm supporting her shoulders and back.

In shock her own arm sprawled across his shoulders for security. Feeling heat creep up her neck and settle into her cheeks Cassie resolved not to meet his eyes.

Looking out across the crowds of people that he adroitly navigated through, she bit her lip. "I'm…confused," she admitted carefully. It was vague enough that it could be correctly interpreted as a plea for answers, but that left room for negotiation as to topics.

Tom chuckled at her reserved admission. "I suppose I could explain." She could hear the grin in his tone of voice. "While I had to return to England shortly after seeing you, I was expected back in New York for a few days after that."

Even though she remained silent, Cass attempted to process that. His schedule sounded insane.

"I asked Jane if she knew if you would still be in the hospital. The flight isn't too out of the way-" Cassie snorted. Two hours wasn't out of the way? "-and if I could have found you it would have been nice to explain why yet again, I left you so promptly without farewell."

He laughed again. This time it was enough to draw Cass's eyes to his. Tom smiled down at her.

"Remarkable coincidence isn't it? She told me you'd be leaving out of JFK to Heathrow today. It was relatively easy to ensure that our flights were one and the same."

The silence that greeted his explanation was tense. Aware enough of deep water, Tom's expression adopted a thoughtful look as he met her eyes briefly, still uninterested in setting her down on her own feet.

"Is something the matter?"

"Why did you ask where I was going if you already knew?" There was something high handed in the way this had been approached, Cassandra thought. Something that made her shy away from it all.

"Far be it for me to say that someone can never change their minds," Tom replied mildly. "Though I do apologize if you feel that I've overreached. Jane expressed concerns over your traveling so soon. I felt the same."

So that was why Jane hadn't protested too vehemently when Cassandra had told her she was making plans to visit sooner rather than later. She had a contingency plan. While her nerves were placated that the gesture hadn't been one of an overbearing nature, her pride stung. It didn't help realizing the fact that she needed his aid.

She sighed, her head ducking slightly.

Tom leaned forward slightly to brush a kiss to her temple gently. "Let me help you, Cassandra," he pressed. "No one would think any less of you. Your courage is humbling. But let us help you."

Perhaps he had a point. Her stubbornness had only hurt her to this point. Her unwillingness to allow others to intercede on her behalf had only made her travels more challenging. Pushing her eyes closed to keep the sting of frustrated tears at bay, she nodded knowing that Tom could interpret it clearly.

It was how she found herself set up in the first class lounge at the gate. The luggage that Luke had taken with him was settled next to her on the ground. Across from her, Luke seemed engaged with something on his laptop and beside her, Tom was silent and still. For her part, Cassandra had elected to withdraw a book from her bag finding it easier to ignore the absurdities of the day rather than having to acknowledge them head on.

"What is it that you do?"

The words 'The ease of his manner freed me from painful restraint; the friendly frankness, as correct as cordial, with which he treated me, drew me to him' blurred on the page as Cassandra jerked in shock at being addressed. At least, she surmised it was she given that no one else was in the lounge and Luke and Tom worked together.

Carefully closing the book she looked up to Luke. His laptop screen had dimmed and it seemed whatever he had been studiously applying himself to had been completed.

"I taught for a few years," Cass replied quietly. "I'm in school at the moment to get my Doctorate's."

"Why did you stop working to do that? I thought there were incentives for doing so in conjunction with where you taught?"

"Luke," Tom said reproachfully. It seemed that he might have attempted to stay the questions but Cassie looked over at him and shook his head.

"No, Tom," she murmured quietly. "It's alright. I don't mind."

Cass bought a few moments by setting the book down on the top of her bag. After straightening, she turned her keen, bright stare to the man in the seats across from her. Folding her hands in her lap, she inhaled slowly.

"Mr. Windsor," she fell back on formality, her voice cool and cutting. Even though she deigned to give him the response he sought it was clear she censured him the asking. "My mother passed away recently, quite unexpectedly. She is.. was one of the greatest influences of my life. Shortly after that, I was badly burned in an accident. Trying to cope with these things seemed insurmountable at the time. Frankly, they still do. Staying in the place that resonates with the memories of my mother and of myself before these tragedies was a suffocating prospect."

Her composed words stayed both men in the room. Her tone never wavered. The words never trembled. There was an icy steel in the response that she had given him: it was painfully honest, revealing in a way that showed her own heart.

Luke Windsor seemed taken aback by the reply that he had been given. His expression was shamefaced before a rueful smile transfixed his features. "I apologize," he replied quietly. "It wasn't well done of me to ask."

Cass only nodded, wondering if she had been too hasty in putting her book down.

"If you don't mind.. why teaching?"

Remembering a similar conversation she had once with Tom at their first meeting she glanced in his direction. He met her eyes with his own. It seemed he was recalling the same moment. Laughing quietly, she smiled ruefully at Luke.

"I could give you any number of reasons," Cass admitted softly. "I love history and this was one of the few ways I could go to school for it and still have a steady job after. The truth is, though, is that as much as I love the stories that history gives me, I love my students."

Her words paused as her mind drifted. It was so easy to dredge up the memory of herself as a young teenager, seeking refuge in Jane Goodman's classroom. Cassie threaded her fingers restlessly through her hair as she fought to find the words that could give insight to her answer.

"There is.. a sentiment, I think, that is absolutely pervasive in society's dealings with teenagers. They're alien creatures, no longer infants that obey – no longer cute and endearing – but they're maddeningly unadult. We can't treat them as children or adults, it seems. No fools, most of my students are incredibly attuned to that. People give up on them during those years when what they need the most is someone to believe in them. Someone to advocate for them. We throw them into the mix and expect them to come out years later, knowing what they want to do with their continued education, what profession they wish to pursue and what type of person they're going to be. That's insane. How can they, without help? Guidance? Knowing that someone cares?"

Cassandra shrugged, cutting off her words. A sheepish smile distracted both men who had listened to her, the sense that she was embarrassed of her own passion something both of them were aware of.

Tom took the hand that was restlessly playing in her lap in his. "I expect we never grow out of needing someone else to advocate for us," he murmured softly, looking at Cass and hoping that she would lift her eyes to meet his.

She didn't, too distracted by the voluntary gesture he had made with his own hand.

"Speaking of advocacy," Luke commented, "we'll be boarding soon and I, for one, am not interested in relying solely on the grace of luck that they'll serve us something palatable. Cassandra, would you like me to grab you anything from a restaurant?"

It seemed that he already knew what Tom's preferences were.

Demurring with a head shake, Cass went to thank him for his thoughtfulness. Tom interrupted the gesture.

"Don't be a martyr," he said laughingly. "We'll both feel like cads if you're resigned to the plane fare. It should thoroughly put me off my appetite."

The theatrical words evoked a laugh from Luke who rolled his eyes. It seemed that such playfulness was characteristic of their interactions although Cassie was still taken aback by the expressiveness. Glancing first at Tom and then to the publicist, she worried her lip between her teeth distractedly.

"If you're certain it's not an imposition?" It was a timid start, one that Luke laughed at.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it."

Somewhat placated by the reassurance, she nodded slightly. "I don't even know what's around here.. honestly, if there's something you've had that you're fond of, I'm not really a picky eater. I enjoy anything."

Watching the man retreat from the lounge Cassandra turned her flummoxed gaze to Tom. He was laughing beside her, thoroughly overtaken with humor. It baffled her.

"I missed something," she commented flatly.

"He'll spend the next twenty minutes pouring over menues to try to find something to curry your good favor with after he mucked up talking to you earlier," Tom explained between laughs. "Luke rarely finds himself in conversational quagmires but he stepped in that one quite tidily."

Cass sighed, shutting her eyes and letting her head loll back to the back of the chair. Instead of encountering the (admittedly, nicer than standard airport material) back of the seat her head rested on the arm that Tom had reached out across the backs of their seats. She didn't bother opening her eyes to glance at him.

If she had she would have only flushed in embarrassment at the familiarities.

"You look exhausted."

Concern wrought his tone, a dramatic change from the mirth that had overtaken him moments before. Even with her eyes shut, Cassandra simply pressed her lips into a tight smile.

"I might have overestimated my capacities," she admitted shortly. It was something she was less than pleased to own up to. "This hasn't exactly been the most comfortable of days I've ever had."

Cass thought fondly of the pain medication that she had been routinely given in her hospital room. That would have been a saving grace now, though the narcotics were something she hadn't been prescribed in the aftermath. Over the counter varieties were a poor substitute but they had been employed to suffice.

"I'm glad you're letting us help," Tom replied quietly. "I'm not certain I could cope with watching you determined to make do on your own. It might have driven me mad."

"I don't know your definition of insane but I'm fairly certain you're already treading perilously close to mine." The tart rejoinder was an effort to inject levity to a conversation that quickly was going in a direction that Cass would have liked to avoid.

Tom's laugh seemed acceptance enough of the repartee, and then a comfortable quiet settled in the silent room. It seemed that the London flight on a Thursday in February wasn't a heavily booked route. It was small consolation for Cassandra Moore, as she let her mind drift off into the quiet haze of sleep.

By the time Luke returned with bags of what appeared to be various sandwiches, the young woman had been thoroughly taken by sleep. Walking quietly forward the publicist was arrested by the sight. Her cheek rested on Tom's arm as it curved around the back of the chair for his hand to settle carefully over her shoulder. She turned into his company as if it were a breakwater from the storm.

Tom himself had his eyes shut, features quietly neutral as he was either asleep or simply lost in thought. On that, Luke could not say.

Carefully putting the bags down, he assessed the time. The three of them could board, should they choose to. Glancing uncertainly again at the blonde woman, he remembered the labored way in which she had walked. Early boarding seemed prudent.

"Tom," Luke invoked softly, testing to see if the other man was wake.

When his eyes slid open to look at the publicist, Luke merely nodded at the clock on the wall. Tom seemed to understand immediately. Carefully extricating his arm from around Cassandra he stood, stretching his lanky frame.

"Should we wake her?"

Tom shook his head, looking pensively down at Cass. Even in rest her features still seemed shadowed with exhaustion. There was a tightness on her face that indicated her discomfort, even in sleep.

Shrugging on the leather jacket that he had taken off upon entry to the lounge, Tom seemed to assess the situation as he did so. Managing a sleeping woman in conjunction with carry ons promised to be an interesting task.

"You're seated in front of us. She's got the seat beside me. If you think you can manage the bags, I can carry her on."

"Or I can carry my bag and myself on," the woman in discussion remarked acidically from where she sat. Looking up at both men, she noted that neither of them seemed particularly repentant.

"If you're going to be particularly stubborn about it, I suppose I could permit someone to remain in possession of my bag while someone else helps me on." She looked pointedly at Tom. "Helping, in this case, does not translate into carry."

Luke muffled a snicker. It seemed prudent to remain silent as the blonde turned her somewhat irritated gaze on him. He noted that for future reference, she seemed to be waspish upon waking.

Tom was more impervious to the display. He just smiled at her. "You said you'd let us help, remember," he remarked mildly.

"Help and carry are not synonymous in my language," Cassandra replied. "While both of you might partake of man-speak, I'm not fluent in it. We'll use common English for the sake of ease of translation, alright?"

That time, Luke couldn't keep his laughter at bay. She had a remarkable talent for putting them in their place effortlessly. He could picture her at the front of a classroom employing such tactics on her students.

Instead of partake of the pointed debate that was happening, he just slung his laptop bag over his shoulder and picked up Cass's carry on in one hand. Waving over his shoulder with his free hand as he exited the lounge Cassie watched his disappearing back.

"I feel like that's him deciding how this is going," she remarked, somewhat more mildly. Tom laughed at her side.

He stepped around to her left, carefully taking her arm in his hand. It served as a support for the stiffer motion of that side's leg. In his own left hand, he had his own carry on. Side by side the two slowly made their way to the ramp that led them into the plane. The first class cabin was a thing of beauty, Cass thought.

It offered ample leg room even when sitting. Carefully brought to a seated position by Tom's gentle hand, she looked to find her carryon already stowed in front of her. Seconds later Tom settled beside her.

His casually assessing glance told him that she was already making herself as comfortable as she could. Turning her cheek into the headrest it seemed that she was inclined to drift off to sleep once more. Reaching over to brush his fingers against the soft skin on the back of her hand Tom repressed the jolt of awareness that he felt as her eyes opened to meet his inquiringly.

"I can wake you when we're eating, if you'd like?"

Cassie's lips curved into a softly tired smile. "I'd like that," she murmured softly as her voice trailed off.

"Thank you, Tom."

Exhaustion must have settled firmly into her bones. By the time other passengers passed through to find their own seats – a few among them remaining in the first class cabin but the majority going beyond to the seats in the cabins behind – Cassandra Moore was firmly asleep. Even the noise of the other individuals didn't disturb her.

Tom and Luke remained standing in the limited space before their own seats. The flight would be seven and a half long hours of largely remaining seated. Both men took the opportunity granted to them to remain on their feet.

Luke however, was turned back to look both at Tom and the woman in the seat beside him.

"So," he began leadingly. Even as the phrasing trailed off it was clear that the conversation would continue. He was merely wishing that the other man would take up the conversation and explain without having to be directly asked.

Tom offered him nothing though. It seemed that if Luke had questions he would have to ask them directly.

"She's interesting." It was a neutral statement and one that evoked a quiet laugh from Tom. "How'd you meet her? I don't mean to pry, Tom but – knowing these things tend to make me be better at my job."

Tom rubbed a hand over his face. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of Luke's seat he sighed. The fingers of his hand curled against his lips as his expression grew pensive. It had been foolish to think that he could keep a piece of his life away from the reality of his existence. It was the basis of his reluctance to share about Cassandra Moore. Almost as if acknowledging her would sully the quiet joy that he found with her, that she would no longer be his. He sighed.

"The UNICEF dinner in November." He rubbed his knuckles over the skin above his lips for a moment before his hand dropped. "One of her friends worked on War Horse. I assume she bought the ticket to the dinner and ended up having Cassandra go in her stead."

Honestly, he had never precisely asked how that had happened. Jane Goodman was a recognizable figure, a tangible link. It would not have surprised Tom in the least to find that the older woman had elected to come to the charity event. However, for that ticket to be at his table? What were the odds?

Focusing his bright stare on Luke again, Tom rolled his shoulders in a telling shrug. "We were at the same table. She was interesting. I heard that she had come back in town over the holidays through some people. You know I brought someone to the War Horse premiere. The world didn't end then. Why is it something to worry over now?"

Luke sighed as he watched the other man. There was an awareness to Tom that had always possessed the ability to be troublesome. The actor effortlessly delivered words that charmed people, that made everything seem perfectly well. After so long, Luke wondered if Tom even realized he did it. That awareness in Cassandra Moore's presence was different, though.

It was more intense. All of that broad attention was focused, had been given direction. Even as they stood the publicist could see how carefully the other man stood, shielding the sleeping woman from the sight of people who walked by. Luke suspected Tom didn't even know what he had done.

"There's the big premiere coming up," he replied quietly, his tone resigned. "You're going to be busy, Tom. I'm not saying don't do things that make you happy.. far from it. But you know what this is going to do. You're going to be a household name, Tom."

The actor's face grew uncharacteristically grim. There was an element of ambiguity even after his larger projects. People could recognize him, certainly. It wasn't as if he was an interesting figure to the media though. The upcoming year had the power to change that. It was the perils of success.

Turning his eyes down to Cassandra's sleeping face, Tom wondered if it was fair to her. In the wake of how much she had lost and how much her world had changed, could he ask her to willingly come into this with him? His lips pressed into a firm line even as his expression remained grim and pensive.

"I can't walk away from this," Tom said quietly. "I can't let this go. I won't." Even if it was the most selfish thing in the world, Tom thought. Even if it was hard, even if she was uncertain. He would simply have to make up for it in any way he could – but he would never be sorry for not letting her go.

He never thought he would be more thankful to the ding of the seat-belt light going on. Glancing at it with a practiced eye he offered a rueful look to Luke. Their conversation would be ended here and if there was any luck it would rest with that. His publicist's expression didn't give him any indication of whether or not it would be revisited in the future.

"Well at least we're finally getting somewhere," Luke remarked after a moment. He turned to sit in the expanse of the seat. First class or no, comfort and flying was an unfortunate oxymoron.

Tom laughed, the longsuffering tone from his publicist a familiar one. The sentiment was shared although given the amount of flying he did for work he had grown numb to the discomforts. Pulling the seatbelt over his own lap the man glanced over at the woman arranged beside him.

He was fixated by her presence, by her proximity. In sleep the tension and fatigue that had given her face shadows and tight lines were swept away. Sitting as she was with the bulk of her weight resting on her right hip, Cass's cheek was pressed lightly into the headrest of the seat. Her left hand curved lightly over her right forearm, both pressed carefully I her lap. Even in sleep the woman was trying to escape the discomfort of her injuries. Tom didn't give into temptation and brush his fingers over the softness of her cheek.

Instead the man glanced up and caught the attention of a stewardess. Appropriating a blanket, once the woman recognized that Cassandra had already donned her seatbelt Tom unwrapped the material. Carefully settling it over the woman beside him he then settled into his own seat, patiently letting the time pass.

Despite the jostling nature of takeoff, Cass never once stirred. Any hope of her rousing and speaking with him dissipated by the time the steep incline of the plane leveled off. Resting into the length of his own seat Tom let his eyes shut as his features relaxed into contemplation. It would take some time before the in flight entertainment began and only after that would the entire plane be served the ersatz food and then all the lights would go dark. He estimated that Cassandra would have two or so hours to sleep before that point was reached.

Of course, Cassie herself rarely followed a schedule so neatly as that. The time ticked by and peaceful quiet reigned in effortless camaraderie. Glancing up to see the flight attendants making their way throughout the length of the cabin making note of who desired drinks before the small cartons of food were served, Tom noticed that Luke had craned his head about.

"I'm going to pull out the food now, if you'd like yours?"

Inclining his head in agreement, the actor glanced over to where the blonde woman had been sleeping since the plane took off. Despite the fact that she had never once woken up she had stirred slightly in her sleep. A hand was curled carefully below her chin now, fingers tucked around what appeared to be a necklace chain. Her other arm was wrapped around her waist.

Of course she would deprive him so readily of something to take in hand to attempt to gently coax her to wakefulness. Unclipping his seat belt, Tom groaned quietly in pleasure at the ability to stretch out. The space between the front of their seats and the back of those before them permitted him the room to sink to a crouch before Cassandra.

Carefully he reached out to brush a thumb over her cheek. Sleepily, her eyes fluttered open. He could see the sharp contraction of her pupils as the lights from the aisles hit her eyes.

"It's time to eat," Tom offered quietly. "I said I'd check in with you?"

As wakefulness slowly trickled into her consciousness, Cass's lips pressed into a firm line. Her hand slid up from underneath her chin, the backs of her fingers pressed against her mouth as she attempted to disguise her yawn. Sleep still maintained a vice grip on her mentality though, and she shook her head slightly.

"Thanks," she began. Her voice had lost the crisp edges of her waking hours. Instead, a raspy gravel had settled into the tone from her sleep. "I appreciate it and.. tell Luke that I'm thankful he thought of me but I'm going to keep sleeping."

She didn't even wait for a reply. Now that the plane was in motion her hand fell to the dials that controlled the angle of the seat, and the footrest that extended from the first class setup. Now capable of being nearly horizontal, the lengthy figure curled up in the seat.

The blanket that Tom had gotten for her hours ago was pulled up to her cheekbones and all that he could see was the silhouetted figure of the sleeping woman beneath the fabric. Luke, who leaned over to pass Tom a bag, blinked at the change in position.

"Not going to eat?"

Tom chuckled, lines crinkling at the side of his eyes. "Apparently the allure of sleep was stronger. Though she relayed her thanks to you for getting food for her, regardless."

The publicist shrugged and sat back down. Once he disappeared from view Tom felt as if he could let his attention settle more fully on the American before him. Stiffly rising to his feet again, he set the bag down beside his seat. His gaze remained riveted on the blonde throughout.

He let his hand brush gently against the loose hair that spilled out from beneath the blanket. How he wished he could just curl his fingers into it, gently cradle the back of her skull and pull her to him. The sight of her curled up so defensively against the world was humbling.

She stood so very alone in the wake of a life that seemed to offer her no kindness. In many ways, despite the tragedy, Tom found it inspiring. Rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers before his hand dropped back to his side, he went to take his own seat.

Her strength was staggering and her courage, unfathomable. That did not mean that he would not do his best to keep the world at bay. Just because she could didn't mean that she should have to. It was his own resolution, one made in darkness and quiet and one that did not need to be shared.

Silence crept long and cloying throughout the first class cabin after that. The smells of dinner faded as the air system filtered and recycled it out to pressurize the plane. While the initial movies that had been shown on the entertainment systems were being replayed along with a host of other television channels, most passengers had elected to turn it off in the favor of sleep.

From the more crowded economy class occasionally a peal of sound broke free. The sound of a crying infant once was enough for Cass's eyes to open to the darkness of the plane. Assessing it as a temporary disturbance though, the young woman receded back into sleep. Beside her Tom, too, rested.

Hours passed before Cassandra's internal clock goaded her awake.

Unlike before this time when her eyes opened they were bright and unfettered with drowsiness. In a bid to assess what was going on Cass carefully folded the blanket that she had been curled beneath. The flight attendants clustered in an alcove behind the first class cabin. No one else stirred.

The woman carefully reached out to switch on the personal entertainment system set up for each seat. Instead of lighting up to show a movie or a television show, a map indicated the route of the plane and its current progress. More importantly was the time stamp on the bottom.

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning in the time zone she was accustomed to. It would be six in England. Rubbing away the gritty residue that restless sleep had left in her eyes Cassandra sighed quietly. It had been more than twelve hours since she had left her home in Michigan. More than twelve hours since she had wrapped the padding and compression bandages about the grafts and donor sites in an attempt to ensure their care and comfort in her travel.

Unfortunately it was time to tend to them again. Gritting her teeth at the prospect, Cass reached down to fumble for her bag in the dim glow of the screen. Even opening the window beside her seat offered no additional illumination. Finally managing to secure the small bag from her luggage, she unclipped her seat belt.

Before standing she made a conscious effort to note where Tom's legs were. Even though the back of his seat had been reclined the man made no effort to use the foot rest that was included in the seats. If it hadn't been long enough for her own five ten figure, no doubt it was laughably short for his own. It meant that his lanky limbs were sprawled out and making her attempt to navigate to the aisle all the more perilous.

Stiffly, Cassie came to her own feet. She reached out and used the back of her own seat for a crutch in an attempt to avoid disturbing anyone else with her movement. Toeing into the slip on shoes that she had left tucked in front of her chair the woman slowly straightened under her own power.

Picking over Tom's legs without bumping him or his seat was a feat of its own. However, managing that successfully she followed the illuminated light that indicated the restrooms. For the first class, there were two and both were unoccupied. It offered some small measure of comfort to her dignity.

Entering the small cubicle Cassandra contemplated the logistics of what she was about to do. The grafted skin needed hydration due to its inability to produce oils on its own. The small bottle of baby oil would serve that purpose. However, getting to the skin would be the problem. There had been no practical outfit to wear with this expedition in mind. Gritting her teeth, the woman steeled herself to the process.

Using the belted waist of her wrap dress as something to tuck the hem of the garment in, a matter of seconds served to see that her dress's length now didn't go any further than the very top of her thigh. With that out of the way Cassie dedicated herself to carefully peeling down the leggings that had been painstakingly put on hours earlier. With each inch of left leg that was revealed from the thigh to the knee, the familiar sight of an ace bandage was revealed.

It was unusual in its design. Instead of four inches wide and many, many long, the design had clearly been made with the leg in mind. It was long enough to cross from the very top of her thigh to the crease of her knee and wide enough that it would span the circumference of the limb. Pulling it away from her thigh and holding it between her lips, Cass carefully pulled away the sterile gauze that covered the skin.

Her lips pressed together to keep the pressure bandage between them. Had it not been necessary, the woman might have cried aloud. As it was, tears trickled down her cheeks and she whimpered softly. Travel hadn't treated the grafts kindly.

Knocked about and strain exerted on them for hours on end, she found that spots of blood had attempted to adhere the gauze to the skin. It was something that Lisa had warned her about. While it wasn't unnatural, the sight was disconcerting. Contorting herself to stare at the reflection of it in the mirror Cass tried to repress another whimper.

The skin looked raw, seeping. It was a graphic sight and wholly unpleasant.

She released air in a long shuddering exhale. She had prepared for this contingency. Lifting with a hand to take the pressure wrap and tuck it underneath an arm, with her other she disposed of the used gauze in the waste bin. The small zip lock bag that she had grabbed from her luggage was set on the counter and opened. The first thing to be withdrawn were disinfectant wipes, which Cass took out of their packaging and cleaned her hands with.

Binning the refuse from that gesture the next act was to hydrate the skin. Taking out the small bottle of oil that had been a challenge to get past security, Cassie tipped some of it into her palm. Gingerly smoothing it over the whole of her leg, each and every inch of replaced skin and healing wounds, took some minutes. By the time she had completed that task both hands were oily. Grimacing at the texture the woman used more disinfectant wipes to remove the excess.

Now came the unpleasant part though. Gritting her teeth as her jaw tightened at the prospect, Cass could only sigh. Tearing open pads of gauze to press against the skin Cassandra couldn't repress the sharp yip of pain at the sensation. Piece by piece of gauze was placed gingerly against her skin where the compression bandage would rest.

A soft knock on the lavatory door disrupted her though.

"Ma'am? I'm sorry, ma'am, are you alright?"

It must have been a flight attendant Cass thought sourly. Blinking away the tears, she knew that if she spoke her voice would belie her discomfort. Still, silence was an even faster way to ensure a disruption.

"Yes," she called out, keeping her voice low enough so that hopefully the passengers in seats nearby wouldn't hear. Her tone was tight with pain. "I'm fine. Thanks."

The clipped words at the end were nothing short of a dismissal that she might have felt badly about in any other moment. Between pain, embarrassment and resignation though Cassandra had lost the censor in her mind that chided her to be polite. It was simply their job.

It didn't help her in the least. Tears trickled down her cheeks at the agonizing sensation of the self inflicted pain she was forced to endure. Turning into one of her own shoulders she used the cloth of her dress to wipe away the tears on one side. Inhaling unsteadily, Cass shook the compression wrap loose from under her other arm. Placing it lightly around her thigh over the gauze to ensure that it would stay where it was meant to, she held her breath as she wrapped it around the circumference of the limb.

White hot pain ripped through her awareness. Despite having endured it for days on end she had not numbed to the sensation. Bracing the palms of her hand against the lavatory's sink Cass shut her eyes tightly as she breathed through the agony.

The desire to cry out faded. Hurt faded to a dull, throbbing discomfort. It was hardly pleasant but it was a more manageable sensation than the initial pain. It meant that she could consider carefully tugging up the leggings that hid the bulky wraps.

Before she completed that task though there were other healing wounds to attend to. Reluctantly pulling the hem of the dress out of the belt and letting it fall Cassandra slowly unbuckled the leather that, in an intricate series of loops, had secured the wrap dress. Unthreading the ties, she pushed the dress away from her right side. The gauze pads there were far less complicated.

That didn't make it any less comfortable.

Each site had been the location of where surgeons had taken skin to cover the most severe of her burns. The main difference was that they were healing more neatly for having been inflicted in a hospital with surgical tools instead of by the greedy ravages of fire.

Gauze pads and medical tape replaced the coverings in a matter of minutes. While Cass would have liked to stop and give into the inclination of weeping she felt far too exposed. The thin door of the lavatory seemed a laughable barrier to the world.

She would dedicate herself to pulling up the leggings over the compression wrap first. It would take the longest. Managing it however was a painstakingly delicate task. Every time that the fabric caught the tacky texture of the bandage it pulled uncomfortably and put pressure on the gauze and fragile skin beneath.

Tears ran down her cheeks throughout the entire process.

Her only consolation was the fact that the dark of the cabin would disguise her red rimmed eyes. Moreover, if she had any luck at all everyone would still be asleep. Sleep that she, too, could return to in short order. That alone would take the edge off of her discomfort.

Of course this was all contingent on luck and betting on that holding was always a futile pastime. Even as Cassandra managed pull her leggings up the entire way a soft scratch at the lavatory door told her someone had returned.

"Ma'am?" The same soft voice identified the individual as the same flight attendant from earlier. "Ma'am, it's been nearly twenty minutes. We're opening the door."

Thick concern overtook the woman's tone. However such a thing wasn't one of Cassandra's concerns. Without a care for the tears that rolled down her cheeks or the ghastly pallor of her features and tear swollen eyes, she clasped the fabric of her wrap dress closed in front of her. The reaction was merited as seconds later, the flight attendant nudged the door open to look at the traveler.

Cass couldn't have cared less. The figure over her shoulder was more engrossing.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but I thought it best that I bring your-"

Her words were cut off as Tom nudged past her. The long, broad figure was enough to conceal Cassandra from prying eyes. "Thank you," he murmured politely, looking over his shoulder at the woman. "We'll be back shortly once this is set to rights."

His very presence crowded her further into the lavatory and Tom used that space to step forward again, carefully sliding the door shut behind him. The fact that the airplane restroom wasn't equipped to hold two people of height wasn't one that either individual paid attention to.

Tom's focus seemed first to direct on her tear wrought features. His brows lowered to settle closely over his eyes as his lips pressed tightly together in concern. A hand reached out almost without realizing it, and it settled lightly on her cheek to brush away the tears. As his fingers curved around the back of her head, who moved first neither could have said.

He drew her in, she gravitated to him. Regardless, within seconds Cassandra found herself pressed tightly against Tom's chest. One hand of his settled lightly against the back of her head, stroking her hair gently. The other was wrapped more tightly around the back of her shoulders, keeping her closely against him.

For her part, she turned her cheek against the fabric of his shirt and closed her eyes.

"Oh, darling," he murmured quietly, eyes registering the blood flecked refuse that had yet to make it into the garbage. Disinfectant and gauze told the story that she hadn't put to words. "There now, love. It's alright."

The frantic pounding of her heartbeat slowed as seconds passed by. The steady rise and fall of Tom's chest under her cheek gave her own breathing something to be augmented to. While it was unlikely that she would be capable of relaxing the tension eased from her body as he crooned quietly to her.

Between them, one of her hands was trapped fisted in the material of her own dress to keep it closed. Initially that hadn't been a problem. Now that awareness was returning to her, though, heat flooded Cassie's cheeks. Exhaling shakily she tilted her head back to look at him.

His blue gaze met hers unsettlingly.

"Tom," Cass began uneasily.. "I.. That is, er, as it were.." Tripping over the words awkwardly, her heartbeat picked up for a moment. "Could you turn around for a moment?" His expression changed as if to protest. "Please?"

The element of desperation in her tone must have done it. He chuckled slightly, arms sliding away from her figure. She had no notion of how challenging that act was. Rotating in a careful shuffle so he was staring pointedly at the door, he tilted his head to the side.

"Cozy," he chirruped cheerfully.

Cass, engrossed in trying to rapidly thread the ties of her dress, snorted in eloquent disdain. Every time she moved her arms she was perilously close to brushing his back. The proximity was painfully awkward. Tying the wrap dress again she didn't bother with the belt for a moment.

Swiping at the pads of gauze and tape that had secured the original set, Cassie threw it into the refuse bin before straightening. Time hadn't been wasted because Tom had turned, curiousity getting the better of him.

For the first time his eyes lingered on the clumsily tied dress and the undone belt that would have cinched the fabric elegantly at her waist. Recognition dawned in Tom's gaze as he laughed in a manner that might have been called awkward had it been any other man.

Instead it merely made him seem good natured.

"The flight attendant was certain something was wrong." His low voice didn't stay Cass from the rapid drawing of the belt together in an attempt to complete the image of being put together. "Rather, it sounded as if she was going to panic at the idea of you panicking in here. She asked if I could help."

And of course he would, Cassandra thought as her heart fell into her stomach. He wouldn't have been able to do anything less. His kindness wouldn't have let him stand by.

Her change of expression must have been transparent. Even as Tom nudged the door open behind him, a hand reached out to cup her cheek gently. His thumb brushed lightly over her lips as Cass's eyes parted, watching him with an expression of bafflement.

"I couldn't leave you alone knowing that something was wrong," he admitted quietly. The dim light of the aisle cast his features in sharp relief as the unlatching of the lavatory door had also cut the lights to the small room. Tom stepped back out of the facilities, and then edged back a step further, a quiet invitation for Cassandra to exit and precede him back to their seats.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Cass's eyes dropped to her feet as she slowly made her way out of the lavatory. A light hand settled on the curve of her waist as she went to walk down the aisle to their seats. It was a touch of empathy, she thought. One of steadiness. Despite the gentle nature of the contact she found that it steadied her as her shaky legs fought to make it all the way back to her seat.

Being able to sit down after the trying experience was a breath of relief. Grateful for the darkness in the cabin, Cassandra turned her eyes to gaze listlessly out the window as she clicked her seat belt into place.

Seconds later the blanket was settled over her. Startled, she looked over to where Tom was slowly folding up to take his own seat. Even in the dim light she knew that his bright stare was fixed on hers. He reached out to take her hand, smiling softly.

"There now," he soothed quietly. "It's over."

Silence between them might have been awkward but Cass realized that she hadn't said a word the entire encounter. He hadn't asked it of her. Too thankful for words now, her fingers tightened slightly around his as the handhold became firmer, less uncertain.

Hours would pass before their hands separated.

When Luke woke up and rose to his feet to stretch half an hour later, he paused in surprise at what he saw.

Cassandra Moore was sitting on her right side, knees tucked together and feet on the floor. Her knees came to a rest beneath the arm rest that divided the space between her seat and the man's beside her. Tom, for his part, had sprawled out. His legs rested to the outside of Cass's. Even though he was less contorted to the side than she was, it was impossible to ignore the sensation that the length of his body was curving around hers, keeping her steady, keeping her secure.

Luke wasn't certain if he should smile or curse. Turning his eyes elsewhere to give the sleeping pair a modicum of privacy the publicist could only sigh. It went beyond curiousity or mild interest. Cassandra Moore fit Tom Hiddleston in a way that Luke hadn't thought possible. It seemed that the man had recognized it, even if it was only subconsciously. Somehow, at some point when no one had been looking or expecting, something had changed.

Reclining in his own seat, the publicist shut his eyes. Despite the darkness and the lack of definition in the cabin, he couldn't shake the image from his memory. Luke suspected that it would stay with him for a very long time after.

If Tom would be the breakwater, then perhaps Cassandra would be the lighthouse to guide them all home.


	20. Delight in Something New

February 25

Cassandra Moore gazed listlessly at the computer screen that seemed harshly bright against the grey light of the Saturday morning. Her fingers drummed restlessly against the keyboard as she found her mind wandering. No amount of effort could press her attention span into obedience. It seemed that the half written essay wouldn't be finished this morning, she thought ruefully.

Clicking rapidly through a series of commands to save the text that she had been working on Cass sighed boredly again. Her eyes fought to drift to the clock. No matter how often she checked the time it would not deign to pass more quickly. Her expression took on one of disgust as she slumped over the table. Her head made a satisfyingly solid thump against the wood.

It was this picture that Jane Goodman walked in on in her search for her second cup of coffee for that morning. Glancing at the young woman slumped over in what seemed to despair the cackle she didn't bother to repress seemed uncharitable.

"You look pretty," Jane commented pointedly. Her eyes gleamed with wicked good humor. It was a leading statement, and Cassandra knew it.

Not bothering to straighten from where she remained slumped over the table the blonde snorted a response.

"Bah to you too." Sweeping past the table, the retired woman poured more coffee into her cup before she pulled out a chair across from Cass's. Noting that the laptop had either been put to sleep or turned off, she pushed it shut so she could stare at her friend from across the surface. Nothing interfered with her keen observation. "Don't think I haven't seen you mooning at the clock all morning."

That did it. Cassandra straightened, leaning against the wooden back of the chair. She lifted a brow in Jane's direction in a thoroughly challenging expression. "And that's a problem?"

"Hardly. I think it's cute."

"Wash thy mouth," Cass bit back, throwing the unused cloth napkin at her friend. Jane plucked it out of the air with a chuckle. Wadding it up for a more effective projectile, she threw it back at her former student. Cassandra merely ducked, letting it go sailing over her shoulder to land on the floor behind her.

"Deny it if you'd like, Cassie-girl, but you're more adorable than a puppy with a bow around its neck under the tree come Christmas morning."

Cass looked down at the table. There was a saltshaker there. She gazed broodingly at the condiment before turning her eyes to the coffeepot. If Jane would just leave for a moment.. it was a tempting thought. Narrowing her eyes to glare back at the grey-laced brunette she just sighed.

"Consider it denied then," she replied at last. Her voice was calmer than it had been earlier. "Although I don't see why it's surprising that I'm transfixed by the clock. Isn't that the way it always goes when you're trying to get something academic done?"

Jane's eyes rolled. "Of course it has nothing to do with the fact that Tom should be here any moment to take you out to a museum."

"Do you not just realize what you've said? Museum! What in this scenario is not to be excited over?"

"Certainly not the attractive young man."

"Museum!"

Jane cackled again as she rose from the chair. She lifted her coffee mug in a pointed gesture that indicated her awareness of Cass's plans involving salt and her beverage. "He'll be heartbroken to hear that you're using him to play docent in a museum, I'm sure."

There was no reply to that. Cassandra's expression had gotten pensive again as she looked out the window. It was raining as it seemed London was wont to do in February. The lack of snow made it seem so far removed from winter, though. Her mind was slowly wandering down that path until Jane's hand on her shoulder waylaid her.

The older woman leaned over the back of the chair, pressing a motherly kiss to Cass's temple. "It's nice," she began softly, her voice more serious now than it had been before. "Nice to see you engaging with people like this again. I know it's only been two weeks since you've come, but every time you come back after being with him you seem happy. I'm glad, Cassie."

Abruptly Cass's heart felt as if it fell into her stomach. Had she been selfish? Burdening Jane with all of these difficulties? Relying on Tom to pull her out into the world again? An agonizing expression flickered over her features for a moment but the seconds were all it took.

Jane's fingers tapped gently on the woman's cheek. "No. Cassandra Moore, don't you dare go there – not to that place where you think it's all your fault, not to that place where you're supposed to be the one to fix it all. Don't you dare."

Cassandra shook her head slightly. It pushed Jane's hand away as Cass looked away. Her eyes fell to where her laptop lay closed on the table, her cell phone resting beside it.

"It seems selfish," she admitted at last. The words were a struggle to share but the bald sentiment was unmistakable. "That I rely on you to give me someplace to hide, that all of the sudden all of these wonderful things that Tom shows me are something I depend on to give me joy. It's selfish.. it seems unhealthy. Wrong."

Jane sighed, reaching over to stroke the top of Cassandra's hair. The long locks were pulled back into an economical braid but the bangs had managed to escape the restraint. Smoothing them away from her forehead, Jane let her arm settle over Cass's shoulder.

"Honey," Jane began, "it might be at times. If we can't live without other people to support us, it might be unhealthy. But it's not cut and dry. Everything is situational. Let yourself feel safe, here. Let yourself be happy with him. In time, you can feel safe on your own and be happy on your own.. but then I hope you still share it with others. Letting others make you happy isn't selfish, not if you return it to them with your own joy. That's love, Cassie. That's life."

It was what she prayed that her former student would find. Shifting over to loop both arms around the still seated girl, Jane rested her chin atop Cassandra's head and hugged her lightly. This somber caricature was a vastly different woman than she would have liked to remember.

The Cassandra who talked animatedly with Tom on the phone she had just purchased to be able to communicate in the UK was a memory she wanted. Seeing Cass determined to research something for her degree that would make her point was the girl she wished to be familiar with. Watching Cassie as she came in from the blustery outdoors, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with pleasure or cold as she watched Tom return to his car, that was the Cassandra Moore that Jane wanted back.

It wouldn't be an overnight process. Jane knew that. Smoothing the bangs away from Cassie's forehead again, she kissed the skin lightly. Cass wouldn't be the young woman that Jane loved without the capacity for overwhelming grief, that edge of lingering sorrow and uncertainty. They had tempered the woman, given her an empathy that most of the world didn't realize.

Squeezing her into a hug again, Jane stepped away. As she did Cassandra looked up. There was something in the shared look that made the older woman feel more comfortable. Everything would work out.

In time, everything would work out.

Her thoughts were affirmed as a solid tapping sounded throughout the apartment as the door was knocked. Cass's eyes brightened, the uncertain expression melting into an honest expression of pleasure at the prospect of the morning out. Despite having seen the man only three days previously it seemed that the promise of his company evoked joy. The implications of those thoughts weren't lost on Jane, who found herself glad.

Stepping away to avoid the whirlwind that was her younger friend swiftly rising from the chair to make it towards the door, she repressed a laugh. Leaning into the door frame to see Cass open the front even as she shrugged on a coat, Jane lifted a hand to wave at both of them in farewell.

The grin on Tom's face and the slighter smile on Cassandra's could only be a prelude to delightful things. Comfortable in those thoughts Jane turned back to sit at her kitchen table. The mug of coffee that had been left there in the span of their conversation was cooler though not yet tepid. Cupping the ceramic between her hands Jane lifted it to sip at the beverage as thoughts whirled through her mind.

She spat out the coffee seconds later.

Her face contorted to one fraught with displeasure. Scowling at the cup she abandoned the chair that she had been about to sit in. Dumping the mug and rinsing it of residual coffee, Jane could only sigh. Damn it, Cass, she thought drily. She had put salt in her drink.. talk about just desserts.

"Imp," the woman drawled to the empty room. "You damnable Puckish creation.." She couldn't help but laugh, even as she drank water to clear away the wretched taste. "Bless you for that, Cassie-girl."

Cassandra was finding her heart, even if it was only a day at a time.

How could she not? She had people fastidiously seeking out her good nature and her kindness, her laughter and her love. The thought was very similar to one that Cass herself was having as she found herself bounding down the stairs with Tom, knowing that Jane Goodman was about to be subjected to doctored coffee.

She couldn't repress the bright peal of laughter as Tom reached over to take her hand in his. The look he gave her was an inquiring one. Cass merely shook her head in silent reply.

"And a good morning to you." It was a cheerful greeting, one that didn't belie the confusion that he had endeavored to disguise. Having the blonde woman come bounding out the door in such spirits hadn't quite been what he was expecting. As she smiled up at him, though, Tom concluded that was a part of her peculiar charm. Cassandra Moore certainly didn't strive to follow anyone's expectations.

She returned the greeting cheerfully. Cass thought that she might have stuttered from the surprise of registering his hand gently clasping hers but there was something in his smile that eased the tension. He wasn't going to ask for any more than she was willing to give. Squeezing his hand lightly, the woman laughed cheerfully despite the rather dreary morning weather.

"It will be a lovely day," Cassie predicted. The comment needed no real answer and in lieu of words, Tom merely leaned over and pressed a light kiss to her temple.

"I cannot fathom how it could be anything but."


	21. Worth It in the End

February 28

Leaning over to peer at the screen of her computer Cassandra Moore couldn't repress her chuckling. Her once nurse now friend association's emails never ceased to offer entertainment. Resting an elbow on the table Cass just shook her head as she rolled her eyes.

_Cass,_

_I'm always well! Haven't you learned this yet? I'm indomitable, which certainly pays off when I'm dealing with hardheaded patients. Also with people who take weeks to write back... which you're not (this time)! It's the small things in life, certainly. Without them we miss too much._

_You're a modern woman indeed. And modern women accept that they can't always do everything on their own, and accept that help (while mayhap the spawn of satan) is, well, helpful. That wasn't a lecture, either. Just friendly advice, from modern woman to modern woman._

_My empathy stems from a need to see people happy. It's a simple and effective solution to a difficult problem. Everyone is suffering, to some degree, all the time. The key is making people forget, even if just for a little while, or better, reminding them that there's still something to smile about. There's always something to smile about. And there's always someone who cares, who wants to help. It's difficult to pound that into some people's heads (ahem) but it's worth it when they realize it._

_It isn't baffling to have people help you. It's human nature._

_I'm glad you and Tom are getting on well. He cares, yes. And so do you. You deserve to be happy, and so does he, so if you're happy together, make each other happy... then you should be happy together. That's that, isn't it?_

_Speaking of Richard, have you seen him again? Since I kicked him out of your room? Perhaps seeing you with Tom gave him the final push out the door._

_I haven't done anything but listen to you, Cass, but you're welcome nonetheless. Keep being well. Keep being happy. I'll continue to hang dragging you back here over your head as incentive._

_I'll talk to you soon,_

_Lisa._

"Indomitable indeed." The rueful murmur was punctuated with a tired yawn. The time stamp on the email read as 3:17am. Lisa had sent it at just after ten her own time.

What was more distressing was the fact that Cassandra had read it only fifteen minutes after it had been delivered. The blonde woman rubbed her eyes again. Cass would never be particularly fond of mornings and waking up to the ruthless cold of the late February dawn was challenging. The blaring of her alarm hadn't been at all alluring. More promising however was the chance of the company she was to join.

The lights in Jane's apartment were dim. Due to the season, the sun had yet to rise and Cass's eyes found themselves unadjusted to any brightly artificial light. Groaning quietly, she leaned back against the chair for a moment. It would be so easy to let her eyes slide shut and go back to sleep.

Even had she had the time to do so, the woman's mind wouldn't have permitted it. 'So if you're happy together, then you should be happy together. That's that, isn't it?' Could it really be so simple as that?

Slitting her eyes open again, Cassandra glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It was nearing three forty five in the morning which meant that her ride would be arriving soon.

Lurching out of the chair in a decidedly inelegant motion the woman sighed. This would be fun. She would be in good company. And, if she was happy.. and if he was happy.. then there was nothing wrong with being happy together. Wasn't that it?

Letting optimism buoy her still not quite awake consciousness Cassie made her way towards the door. If nothing else she could waste her time donning layers. Thick socks padded her footfall on the wooden floors. What was less apparent, though, were the layers she wore. One couldn't do much with jeans unfortunately. However, a tank top worn over her bra was only the first of many over her torso. Over that, a tight t-shirt clasped the fabric beneath it closely to her body. Yet another shirt, a form fitting long sleeve shirt completed the base layers. A teal turtleneck, out of sweater material, completed the shirts themselves. Despite that, however, Cassandra seemed inclined to add a wool scarf to the mix.

Feeling the restriction of all of these layers the woman laughed quietly at the absurdity. Still, it would better serve to have layers to peel off than to suffer the cold all day long. A down jacket completed the ensemble. In the pockets, fleece lined gloves waited to be pulled on.

Before she knelt over to pull on the knee high, wool lined boots that would serve to keep both her feet and lower legs warm Cass glanced out the panel of glass that offered a view of the street below. No headlights shone. Was Tom running late, or had she simply managed to lose track of time and was early?

..Who cared. At any time before six in the morning, it didn't matter. Existing at such ungodly hours was a tragedy.

Rubbing her eyes again, Cassie fought back a yawn as she pulled on the brown suede boots. The timing seemed to work out. As she straightened, a quiet rap on the door indicated someone on the other side. No one else would be so insane as to be knocking on doors before four in the morning.

Without looking, Cass swung the door open. As she pulled a messenger bag over her right shoulder, his quiet voice greeted her.

"I suppose worry about you dressing warmly was unnecessary." The tone was wry and, much to Cassie's disgust, far more awake than it had any right to be.

She merely looked up and let her bleary expression do the talking. He chuckled, reaching out to take her bare hand in his. Despite the chill, his skin was still warm. Warmer than hers. Folding his fingers around her, he tugged her out the door gently, only pausing to let her shut and lock it behind her.

"Is it any consolation if I say that I have something hot for us waiting in the car?"

Cassandra finally mustered control of her facial expression. Her lips twitched up at the corners. Despite the fatigue on her face she still relayed her amusement. "Profound comfort," she replied dryly. "And as far as the cold goes, please. I know how to handle cold. That much wasn't any concern of mine."

Tom lifted a brow as his smile etched more deeply into his cheeks. They approached the car and even before she could manage to grab the door to pull it open, his hand had made it there before hers. Swinging it open, he stepped aside easily to permit her to slide into the front passenger seat. Ducking inside Cassandra was temporarily distracted by the plush interior.

The warmth was more diverting, though.

As Tom entered and turned the key in the ignition he hazarded a second to glance over at her. "If not the cold, then what was your concern?"

Her laugh met the mildly curious query. "My alarm," Cass deadpanned. "Be still, my heart. It must be love if I'm awake before four in the morning to hie off for an adventure."

"I should hope so."

What might have been an awkward silence settled between them. However, even before the car pulled away from the curb, Tom pulled a thermos from the cup holder and offered it to the woman. She took it with an inquiring look.

"English breakfast tea," he offered in explanation. "I didn't know how you'd take it. I hope you don't mind."

Inhaling the fragrance, Cass eyed it contemplatively for a moment. Sipping it and letting the heat roll through her, she groaned in pleasure and let her head fall back against the head rest. "Not at all." She flashed him a grin even with her eyes still shut. "It's caffeinated. I'm easily pleased before six in the morning, it seems."

Tom chuckled, the quiet sound not overbearing in the confined interior. It was the last words they spoke for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time. Cass attributed it to the hour.

Watching the lights blur by as her mind attempted to wake up, she sighed. A glance at the time on the car's dash told her they were pushing past four thirty now.

"I hadn't realized it was such a drive."

Tom kept his eyes on the road, quelling the instinct to glance over at her to assess what nonverbal cues she would give him. The tone she had spoken with hadn't been accusing, though. The gravel of sleep was slowly ebbing away from her throat, too. Perhaps she was merely waking up more fully.

"It can be easier to stay overnight in a room nearby. Others, the pleasure of one's own home is too alluring." He laughed, a slight smile pressing across his lips. "I don't mind the drive when I have to make it."

Cass smiled lightly as she pressed her cheek against the cool glass of the window. With the heat on in the car, her layers had long since become uncomfortable. She knew she would be grateful for them later but at the moment they were nearly intolerable. His words were a pleasant distraction.

"I don't know," she replied wryly. "There's something that seems inhumane about having to wake before the sun." Cass paused, her eyes looking out the window contemplatively. No light gave illumination to their surroundings and they had long since left the outskirts of the city. Even towns had become sparse. Artificial lighting had disappeared entirely. "Staying awake to greet the sun? Fine. But this? I don't know how you do this."

"Didn't you teach?" Tom teased in return.

Cass merely laughed. "And you expect students to be any more awake than I at seven o'clock in the morning? If you do, you were a very, very odd teenager."

There was silence at that. It seemed an irrefutable argument which met with a smug smile from the woman's side of things. It took some time, but the man rallied after a few minutes.

"I like to think that if it's in the effort of something we love, it will all be worth it in the end."

Quiet settled between them once more. As the seconds passed by Cassandra found her mind moved to memories. They came in quick succession. Those from her childhood flickered across her vision: the pictures of her family in the younger, simpler years. There were memories of school friends since come and gone. And the years progressed, as did the woman. There were the fights with Richard, the apprenticeship under Jane, and a handful of glittering nights so surreal that they might have been thought to be a dream.

"I suppose," she ventured quietly after a very long silence, "that's the very essence of what hope is. That it will all be worth it in the end."

It might have been a way to press awkwardness between them. Instead, however, Tom flicked his eyes off the road for a brief moment. Cass's expression was pensive, her countenance etched with the weight of memory. It was clear that not all of them had been happy. His hand drifted out to secure hers, folding her slender fingers between his own.

After that, the quiet wasn't so uncomfortable.

In that same companionable quiet Tom pulled the car into a spot in a rough imitation of a parking lot. Gravel scattered over the ground gave Cassandra the impression that it had been created specifically for this purpose. Beyond the constructed area several trailers loomed largely against the dim grey of the predawn sky. Tom informed her that they served a variety of purposes. The largest was where the cast and crew would find various foodstuffs and duck into in an attempt to warm themselves throughout the day. Others offered places for wardrobe to dress and prepare each actor and the extras in turn. After the takes hot showers could be found there.

It was, Tom told her with a grin, a muddy affair to film a battle. Uncertain of quite what he meant, Cass merely smiled slightly in return.

Departing the car let the refreshing shock of cold air slap against her cheeks. Inhaling it deeply she shut her eyes a moment. The quiet hum of people preparing for their day was palpable but the noise of cities and civilization had faded away. Waving Tom off to where he indicated he needed to go, Cassandra Moore was content to linger out of the way.

Sunrise came late in this part of the world at this time of year. By her estimation, it would be nearly seven before it even began to crest. Assuming, anyway, that it would. The dim light of early morning gave sight to clouds and fog that lay over the frosted ground. The hills of where she stood dipped and gave way to forest. If she shut her eyes again she found that she could be transported away from the modern world entirely.

They had done well to film here, Cass thought pensively.

There was something unapologetically wild about it. It was untouched, unscathed by moderninity. The trailers were a garish scar on the landscape but as Cassandra put her back to them and let the time tick closer to five in the morning she could let all of that fade away. She shut her eyes again and let the scenery steal her to a different place.

A cold wind bit through even her heavy garments and sought to steal the air from her lungs. She only laughed, albeit breathlessly. The chill brought color to her cheeks and has her eyes opened again, they danced with a liveliness that they had lacked for weeks. Bright and alive in the cold, Cass was pleased when she did not start as long arms wound around her waist.

More time had passed than she realized. The grey of pre sunrise was more prominent. As a marker, though, the fact that Tom had returned in full costume and makeup was more indicative of how long she had stood and remained in wonderment over where he had taken her.

Cassie shivered at the chill that metal armor delivered. His leather covered hands clasped in front of her abdomen, pulling her back against him. It was an abrupt gesture though she did not stumble for the security he offered her. Tilting her head back Cass smiled at him.

"I haven't said thank you yet," she ventured quietly. "I'm still not certain that I believe you when you say it's alright to have me here.. but.. Thank you. This is amazing."

Tom laughed before he released her. His easy stride brought him beside her as he looked over the scenery that had enraptured her so thoroughly.

"I suppose it's easy to get lost in the work and forget the majesty of what it is I do." It was a softly spoken admission and one that evoked a genuine smile from the woman by his side.

She shook her head, her braid of hair falling to settle over the shoulder of her coat as she did so. How could one lose sight of this? Cass took half a step back and let her weight rest completely on her right leg. The space between them finally gave her the ability to take him in, from head to toe.

He was unrepentantly regal. The long light brown hair was tousled and seemed sweat streaked. Mud and artificial blood lingered over his entire body. Despite the dishevelment though the man appeared every inch a king. The breadth of his shoulders was unrepentant and his stance, haughtily commanding. Even before the character was given to speech, given a voice, Tom embodied the King he was meant to play.

It was breathtaking.

There was no time to be lost in such reveries however. A voice, pitched to project over the distance, summoned the actor. He smiled ruefully down at her, as if he were uncertain at abandoning Cassandra to her own devices. She merely lifted a hand to wave him away.

"Off with you," she quipped with a laugh. "Kings have kingly duties to see to, after all. Don't worry about me. I love it – love this. I'll just stay out of the way where people point me to."

He was not necessarily reassured, judging from his expression. Reaching out he brushed the back of his gloved fingers over her cheek. Cass gave him a concerted look.

"Go! Before you get all of this delightfully created artificial mud on me."

It evoked the laugh that she had been hoping to garner.

"As my Lady commands me," Tom retorted, easy laugh filling the quiet between them. "I would ask a token of my Lady's favor and yet, I fear I cannot be so bold."

The dialect and intonation was different than what she was used to hearing from him. Watching Tom turn and stride away, Cass remained pensive. The chainmail rasped quietly against the plate that covered his torso with every step and it was audible in the pre dawn. Just the sight of him pacing over the field was a bizarre throw back to a different age.

And he had elected to share it with her. That recognition warmed her heart, and kept it so long hours after the cold had set into her figure as Cassandra Moore observed the man at work.


	22. Beggars and Kings

February 28

How Tom could work such long days confounded her. Her average hours at school were seven to five when it was all counted out. This was so far beyond that, that Cassandra couldn't even comprehend it. Not for the first time she wished she wore a watch. They had arrived on set before five in the morning. More than twelve hours later, Tom was finally being stripped of his costuming in one of the trailers where he would change after a shower.

For her part Cassandra was still content to linger out of the way and watch the going ons of the vicinity. It had been a long day… a very long day. Her figure had drooped with fatigue nearly two hours ago. A kindly assistant that Cass had found herself talking to earlier in the day had guided the American to an empty seat. The metal of the chair however, didn't help in the efforts of staying warm.

Despite the layers that she had conscientiously dressed in nothing could keep the cold at bay. Not after more than twelve hours standing in the cold. Not for the first time Cassie found herself lamenting the restrictions of her healing leg. Had it not been for the ginger skin there she would have been able to pace, restore circulation more readily. Instead the woman was stuck sitting passively. To make it sound as a trial, however, would have been misleading.

Cassandra Moore had been enthralled with the workings of the day. Various groups of people traveled to various locations. Sometimes Tom was involved. Others, he wasn't. The opportunity to hear the lines delivered with such conviction, though, was beyond moving.

It took Cass to a different place, a different world. Even without the polish of post production, she could see the story.

Talent of such measure left her without words. Waiting while Tom had been appropriated by wardrobe, she let her mind wander back to all of the things she had seen over the course of the day. On her feet now, the woman crossed her arms over her abdomen to contain her body heat more effectively inside of her coat.

A familiarly built figure pressed against her back. As Tom's arms wrapped around her waist, his nose pressed lightly into the crook of her neck where a gentle kiss was laid.

He was so warm. Easing back into the heat the man provided Cassandra's eyes sank shut in a quiet measure of bliss. While she didn't groan, it was a near thing. Indeed, the sound made wasn't hers. He made a noise in the back of his throat, arms locking more firmly around her as he pulled her more closely against him.

"God, you are absolutely frozen."

Hearing the words so close to her ear, feeling the warm air breathed over the sensitive shell, Cass shivered slightly. Resting her gloved hands over his arms, she tilted her head back on her shoulder to smile at him lightly. In the dim light after sunset he could see the red of her nose and cheeks. Despite the chill however the woman seemed lively, lightened in a way she hadn't been before. In fact, Cassandra merely laughed at him.

"Cold," she corrected with a grin. "Not frozen. I'm still capable of identifying the fact that my feet are cold. At the point I can't feel them anymore we've got a problem… Tom, have you ever been to the northern States in winter? This is nothing. I promise."

He shook his head with a rueful laugh. "Done in again." Pressing his nose into the crook of her neck once more, the man exhaled slowly. The sharp contrast of cold to warm caused Cass to shudder in pleasure. It was a silky, decadent thing to feel. The light brush of his facial hair against the thin skin only enhanced the feelings of sensitivity.

"Come, my Lady," Tom remarked, finally releasing his hold from around her waist. Instead, he took hold of one of her hands. "The sooner we get back the sooner we can get you warmed up."

There was the weight of an unspoken promise there. Uncertain if she wanted to venture down such a perilous road of thought, Cassie merely waved her free hand airily.

"I was thinking about that," she replied distractedly as he tugged her over the darkening field towards the parking lot. "Lady? If we're being correct I'd far more likely to be a harlot.. Let's face it, I enjoy pants far too much."

In retrospect perhaps that wasn't the best way to change the topic to something safer. However, Cassandra couldn't take the words back. She let her features shift into a more confident expression, the quietly feminine smile a sly grin of humor that no man could comprehend.

"That sounds a dangerous thing to agree to." Humor was light in his tone. "Should I find that I concur, then I've just done you grievous insult yet, to disagree would make me a cad. Cry peace, my lady, and have done with your treachery!"

"So you won't infer that I'm a whore but you will accuse me of being deceitful. I see what the measure is."

Tom paused in his stride and stared at her for a long moment. Cassandra's features were stoic, a brow arched in mute censure. Shock had flickered sharply over his expression as he attempted to assess her own measure. When Cass's lips curved up into a smug smile and she laughed, he could only shake his head ruefully. Keeping up with the dry wit as she had done certainly hadn't been what he had expected.

"I see how this is going to go," he replied at last with a laugh.

Cassandra's nonverbal reply was a quiet little smile.

The humor saw them through to the car, where Tom opened the door for her. Sliding into the interior, Cass found that he must have started it earlier for the wash of warm air nearly stole her breath away. Groaning in quiet appreciation she settled back into the plush seat as the man got in on the right and situated himself to begin the drive back to the city. Watching him quietly, she wondered where he found his energy from.

"You astound me," she admitted quietly, humor abating into something more serious. "I've spent the last fourteen hours in your company and never once has your momentum flagged and you've been working. The only expectation anyone had of me was to just show up and I'm still exhausted."

The headlights of the vehicle illuminated the pavement and Tom's eyes didn't drift from the rough country road that wouldn't for some time yet fade into something more maintained. Still, it was apparent that his attention was granted to the blonde by his side. His lips pursed consideringly even as his hands tightened on the wheel.

"I think by some accounts your day has been harder." They were contemplative words. "My job is a blessing. A dream, really. In the course of a day I can read a script, deliver lines and find a story and depth in it that constantly surprises even myself. I have the opportunity to represent a truth of human nature, no matter what scene it is I'm in. But to watch that? To observe that and not be in motion in it? The hours can be long for me, yes, but the staying power required to watch it and not be a part of it is even more demanding I think."

Quiet descended in the cabin of the car. For her part, Cassandra mulled over the words that he had shared with her. Unbeknownst to the woman, her hands curled more tightly over her thighs in her contemplation. It was only when Tom reached over to settle his palm over the glove covering hers that she looked down and realized it. Squeezing it gently though, the man's fingers lifted to brush against the back of her cheek as they had done hours earlier in the light that morning promised.

"Sleep Cassandra," he entreated softly. "I won't mind."

She flashed him a rueful smile. Lifting a hand to cover the fingers that lingered on her face, she squeezed them lightly in return.

"So eager to rid yourself of me," she teased.

"More eager to restore your energy so that I might keep your company a while longer." The correction was easy and made with a laugh.

In the wake of such words Cassie found it easy to let her hands fall to her lap again. The heat of the ventilation system was alluring, tugging her oh so seductively towards the comforts of sleep. Sooner than she realized, she was leaning her head against the window and letting her eyes flutter shut. Quiet music played in the background and only the occasional passing headlights brightened whatever she might have seen behind her eyelids as they remained shut.

Through the darkness Tom glanced over in one of those moments. The headlights cast into sharp relief the bright blonde of her hair and the pale skin of her features. There was something so lovely, so unguarded in her expression that his heart lurched.

So be it, then.

For her part, Cassandra couldn't say what had woken her up. A fair amount of time must have passed since she had initially slept, though. Even without opening her eyes the bright lights of civilization gleamed behind her eyelids. Headlights from cars coming in the opposing direction, streetlamps and storefront lights all added to the light pollution. Taking a few minutes to gather herself, she might have spent several minutes trying to collect herself had Tom not called her name softly.

A warm hand settled over her own, the gentle touch clearly an attempt to coax her into wakefulness. Had she not already been conscious, Cass thought she might have been startled. Instead she simply opened her eyes slowly and turned her attention to him.

"We're close to the city again," he offered quietly in deference to her own sleepy haze. "Would you like me to take you back to Jane's? Or I can offer you dinner at my place."

The easiest answer would have been to go back to her friend's. It was the comfortable one. Tom had given her so much today already. More than sharing his day, he had shown her a part of himself. Cassie exhaled quietly, using the seconds to buy time to think. Could she do the same? Did she dare?

Her lips curved in a rueful smile. "Be still, my heart." Her tone was teasing, her expression carefully lighthearted. "Dinner sounds lovely, though. Something quiet.. it's been a while. It would be nice."

In all the hours that they had spent together Cassandra realized that they had not ever truly been alone. Only in the contained environment of a car did they share proximity without prying eyes. Even the museums they walked through or the monuments they looked at had been in the public eye. Even today when they had been away from what might have been considered the public, he had been working. Was this truly the first opportunity they might have?

Cass rather thought it was – and, it seemed, was willing to give it a chance. That mattered all the more.

The option that Cassandra had selected seemed to please Tom. He gave her an easy smile, bringing the car about to a section of the city that she didn't recognize so well. Perhaps it was unsurprising she thought ruefully. It would have been audacious to believe she would manage to become familiar with the entire geography of London so soon.

Parking was a more interesting affair, as he pulled the car into a parking garage that seemed affiliated with one of the high rise complexes nearby. There was an open space for him, from which they made their way into the lobby of the apartment building. Remaining quiet seemed the smarter decision, Cass thought. Even though nothing was excessively over the top there was something subtly lush and elegant about the building.

It was a first class location, without a doubt.

Feeling somewhat ratty in her now muddy boots and bundle of layers the American glanced uneasily at the quietly opulent walls, reflective metal gleaming her image back at her. It only solidified what she knew. The braid she had put her hair into hours ago had frizzed leaving it looking untended and uncared for. Cold still chased a ruddy flush into her nose and cheeks but somewhere along the line a smear of mud had been brushed on the edge of her face.

Her clothes themselves were equally a disaster. A brief bout of light rain had soaked through the denim, leaving the long hems susceptible to picking up debris from the field. The winter coat, and many of the layers beneath it, were also a lost cause. Cassie swallowed uncomfortably at the picture.

Beside her, freshly washed and in clean clothes Tom presented his normal, effortlessly elegant appearance. The juxtaposition they made together was discomforting. As if sensing her unease however, Tom glanced down at her and grabbed one of her hands in his. Squeezing it lightly he tugged her closer to his side. Walking might have been awkward had he not adjusted his stride to hers. The hand holding hers was on his far side, permitting the arm closest to her to wrap around her waist.

Holding her tightly to him Tom made the walk to the elevators in short time. It certainly didn't hurt that both individuals merely had to unfurl the long length of their legs to cross the space.

Once sequestered into the more private space of the lift, Cass glanced uneasily at the row of buttons. "That was…" She paused, wondering what could possibly be used to describe what happened. "Special?"

Tom laughed, hugging her tightly with one arm. Leaning down, he made to press his lips against her cheek.

"You're still frozen," he remarked, startled. The long drive in the car with the heater on should have seen to it. Cass only shrugged prosaically at the comment. "Well," Tom continued, "once we get in I'll see to it that we get you something dry to wear."

It was an appealing thought. For her part Cassandra certainly wouldn't turn down clothing that wasn't muddy or damp. The ding of the lift preceded the opening of the doors. His arm around her back gently urged her forward as Cass stepped off. The hall split into several different directions though, and within a matter of seconds she realized the building was larger than she had anticipated. Understanding her confusion Tom chuckled and took the lead, although even while he let go of his arm around her waist, he maintained the hold on her hand.

Stopping in front of a door, it was short work with a key for the apartment to be unlocked to them both. Switching a light on by the side, he gently ushered her in.

Letting her eyes adjust to the change in light Cass took the time to take in the surroundings she found herself ensconced in. It was not a barren place to live. That was the first revelation that came to the woman. While the bright colors and accents were kept to a minimum there was something unapologetically masculine about the interior. A leather couch over a neutral carpeting seemed to cement that conclusion. Peeling her eyes away from the relatively tidy set of rooms, Cassandra glanced up at Tom who seemed to be watching her in an attempt to gauge her reaction.

"You've a lovely place," she offered quietly.

While it might have been one of those occasionally half hearted niceties it was clear from the earnestness in her voice that Cassie meant it. Hanging his own coat on a rack by the door, the man offered a hand out to take hers. Shrugging it off, she handed it to him with a shy smile.

"Thanks," he replied easily. "Though I suppose I can give you the tour after.. You still look chilled. It's a plague on my conscience that I'm dry and warm and you've been in discomfort for so long." His admission was rueful, eyes attempting to seek a forgiveness that Cass wondered if he would ever realize, he never needed to ask for.

To such an end she laughed lightly, resting a hand on his forearm. "Think nothing of it," she attempted to insist.

He was having none of it. "Anything of my sisters' that they might have left here-" and there, Cassandra attempted to get her mind caught up, for it had stopped at the mention of sisters, "would likely be too short. They're rather shorter than you I'm afraid. Would you mind terribly if you had to wear something of mine?"

Cassie lifted a brow in quiet censure. He was already being gracious, to think that she would turn up her nose at any article of clothing he was kind enough to provide was absurd. "Only if you don't mind a bit of mud on it. I'm sorry to say that I seem to have collected some dirt throughout the day.. I apologize about that, preemptively. I really don't want to track mud through your lovely home."

He grinned. While Tom had been gracious enough not to pay overmuch attention to it, it had been impossible to ignore the fact that Cassandra had lost something of her polished presentation over the course of the day.

"I can offer you a shower first," he volunteered with a grin.

Cassie laughed. "Warm and clean. And dinner. This is clearly working out wonderfully in my favor."

"Whatever my Lady would desire," Tom retorted with an easy chuckle.

Navigating down the hall to the door that he had pointed out, Cassandra turned into a bathroom that was even more unapologetically masculine than the rest of the apartment. There were no indications of a feminine presence: no makeup or loose strands of long hair. It lacked the flowery scents that accompanied feminine soaps and perfumes. She shut her eyes, inhaling deeply.

There was only Tom.

Glancing at the rack where an unused towel hung, the woman bit her lip uneasily. He had mentioned that he would lean in and leave the clothes on the countertop. She looked to the shower, the textured glass leaving it opaque and challenging to see through other than a simple silhouette. Bowing her head, the courage and bravado that had bolstered Cass to this point seemed to flee.

In its place was left a cold, uncertain young woman. What could she do?

The answer was straightforward enough. She could – and did – lean over to turn on the hot water, giving it a moment to run warm enough that she could step under it. Carefully shucking the layers of clothes that she had peeled on that morning and picking off the gauze and tape that covered the grafts and pitching that in the trash bin, Cassie stepped into the shower.

Immediately the bite of hot water against chilled flesh made her tense. Sliding the glass door shut behind her, Cassandra shuddered as the sensation slowly warmed her skin. Shutting her eyes and tilting her head back so the spray could fall on her face, the woman luxuriated in the heat for a moment.

Her eyes remained shut though as she leaned against the porcelain back of the shower. What was she doing? Lifting a hand to slick back her hair Cass sighed softly. The sound was muted by the fall of the water.

"If I could but know his heart," she intoned quietly, "everything would become easy." There was no better way to say it than that.. but then, wasn't that what this was? Growing.. coming to see him as he was? Damn.

She had no idea.

Trying to sort that out would only take an eternity and, when the hot water was running, it was time that she didn't have. Making note to beg his pardon for the use of his shampoo later, Cass lathered her hair with the soap that reminded her so very much of his smell.

Rinsing it out took significantly less time despite the length and thickness of her hair. It would have been easy to stand and wish after, for a measure of her own shower supplies. Without anything to condition it she was relatively certain that her hair would be a fright later. That was a battle she could stand to face, though. If nothing else putting it back into a braid would always suffice.

Shutting the water off, Cass's arm crept out from the warmer interior of the shower to secure the towel that she had left hanging in reach. Even before exiting to the bathroom at large she tried to rub off the water that she might otherwise have tracked out. Wringing her hair out a final time the woman wrapped the damp towel around her torso as she carefully stepped out of the shower.

True to his word at some point Tom must have cracked open the bathroom door to put clothes on the counter. Cassandra forcibly warded off the embarrassment that fought to creep into her consciousness. He would have been a gentleman about it, she told herself. He could have just reached in and put them there without even opening the door to his eyesight.

The t-shirt was large enough that she knew it would work. The sweatpants would be nothing short of comedic, dragging the ground at the hems. Her problem would be underthings. Glancing distastefully at the neat pile of clothes she had worn earlier in the day Cass only sighed. She could stomach putting the bra back on. The rest.. well. She'd simply appropriate his clothing and return it when she had laundered them.

Letting the towel slip to her hips it was an easy enough affair to get her bra on over the slightly damp skin. The navy t-shirt would have been next to pull on had the door of the bathroom not creaked open behind her.

A muted squeak was all the surprise Cassandra was capable of vocalizing. Hauling the towel up under her arms again, she clutched the cloth to her as she spun around to stare at Tom's surprised expression. Clearly, walking in on a not quite dressed houseguest had not been the plan.

Her eyes were wide in surprise as her mind reeled, attempting to come up with some prevarication, some polite nonsense to spit out in an attempt to smooth over what was now certain to be a horrendously awkward encounter. Any attempt was stayed however as Tom reached out, his palm settling lightly in the crook of her neck His thumb traced down the tendon lightly, warm touch inviting.

Despite the lack of intent, he wouldn't necessarily apologize – not for this. Not for what this might be.

"If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you," he breathed softly, bending down so the words were whispered ever so lightly against her cheek, "I would be your slave."

Cassandra flushed hotly with the realization that he had heard her own confession despite the water running. She tried to avert her eyes, tried to turn away but the firm touch of his thumb – now under her chin – kept her from disappearing from his attention so easily.

She could only look up at him, heartbreakingly transparent. "You heard that."

His smile was not a playful one, not the broad grin the public saw. It was smaller, more earnest in its measure. "The BBC arguably gave me my start. I have an ear for it," he replied dryly. It might have been a normal conversation, were she not in a bra and a towel and pulled up closely against him, his other arm creeping around her back to hold her close.

"It's true, Cassie. Let me see all that you are – the virtue and the vitality, yes.. but the frailty and your fallibility. What I see of you already, already means the world to me. Let me see you."

Cassandra shut her eyes, attempting to process all that she had learned. Pulling herself up onto her toes as one of her arms reached around to lock itself about his waist, she pressed her cheek against his.

"I won't say that I know how," she admitted, her voice trembling with the thick emotion behind it. "But if you can show me, I'm willing to try."

Tom turned his face to catch her lips with his. It was, comparatively, a chaste kiss and one that he separated from relatively quickly. "I could ask nothing more of you, darling. I want nothing more."

No, Cass thought as she settled back to the ground, pulled tightly against him. He asked for nothing more than the very matter of what she was. It was so simple, because it was everything.. but it was everything she was not certain she knew how to give.


	23. The Sum of our Parts

February 28

Held so closely against his chest, Cassandra's arm that wasn't wrapped around Tom's waist was trapped between their bodies. It was something that the woman did not necessarily mind. Despite the fact that her bra might have kept her upper body decent she couldn't help but be painfully aware of the fact that she wore nothing else.

An added element of insecurity weighted the situation. Garish scarring and healing skin covered a large portion of her body. Cass swallowed uncomfortably. How would he react seeing that? She knew it wasn't… pretty. Was so far from slightly that she couldn't have blamed him if he turned away upon seeing it. If he did though, she wasn't certain she knew how to cope with the emotions that would accompany that situation.

So lost in thoughts as she was, Cassie lost sight of what was happening in the world outside of her own mind.

His thumb brushed lightly against her jaw. "Here now," Tom urged quietly, other hand at her back stroking her spine gently over the towel. "No rushing. Nothing that you aren't alright with."

Cass's teeth had sunk into her lower lip. Lowering the skin nervously, she fought to keep her eyes on his. Tom's expression was so earnest, his words so painfully genuine that she felt all the more the fool for her own responses. She shuddered in tension before the stiffness in her back receded abruptly. Cassandra leaned into the touch of his hand there as she turned her head to catch his thumb between her teeth.

Nipping it gently, she pressed a kiss to it a moment after.

"It isn't that," she confessed quietly, her earnest regard locked on his. "It's.. this," she finished, hand trailing away from his back to gesture at her leg. "I'm not whole, Tom." It was a quiet confession. It was a heartbreaking one, the strength required to admit those words something she didn't know she had. "It's ugly, and raw. It's.. God. I don't even have the words for it. I couldn't blame anyone who shied away after seeing it."

Tom took half a step back. The hands that had braced her, held her and guided her so gently shifted, firmed. The fingers that lingered over her neck and jaw dropped to curl lightly around her shoulder. The others trailed up from her back to linger over the hand of hers that held the towel so tightly over her figure.

Curling his grasp over hers, his larger palm was warmly insistent. At its gentle insistence her clutching hold eased. It released. For perilous seconds the only thing keeping it up were his own fingers over the fabric but those too freed their hold and let it go. It dropped with a damp thump at their feet but neither seemed to care.

From his half a step away Tom had the vantage point he needed. He could look down and see her – see all of her. He did so, without reservation. Despite the warm humidity of the air Cass trembled palpably.

His hand over her shoulder trailed down over her back again. Stroking softly along the elegant curve of her spine he silently conveyed his reassurance the best he could with such a gesture. What finally assuaged her insecurities though, or at least finally began to start to manage it, was when his arms abruptly settled around her and pulled her close and pressed her front to his.

"No, Cassandra," he breathed lowly. "No. You're more than whole. You're more than complete. Brave girl.. Beautiful girl. Believe me. Let me show you."

Crushed against him Cassie was able to bury her face in the fabric covering his chest. The buttons of the casual button down he wore scraped lightly at her skin but it was a comforting tactile sensation. For a moment both of them were still. Her heart pounded. How could she reply? Did she even have words? Instead, Cass only nodded slowly. It was a response that couldn't have been translated in any other way.

Stroking his hand gently against her spine again his fingers quietly investigated the bare expanse of skin there. Instead of pushing it seemed the man was content to discover what he could from their posture as it was. Letting his hand drift lightly to the side, his touch found the sensitive hollow above her hip. Her skin twitched slightly in a response she couldn't quite control.

Once, she might have called it a ticklish sensation. Now though, it was something so much more than that. The touch left her breathless, whimpering slightly, smal-ly in the back of her throat. Tom merely chuckled before repeating the gesture.

Only after he had evoked a repeat of the involuntary response did his hand venture elsewhere. Bracketing the sensitive nape of her neck, his thumb gently stroked the skin behind her ear. Cassandra couldn't help it. She leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. As she had finally separated herself from being flush against his chest, Tom smiled with quiet satisfaction.

Leaning down he caught her lips with his. Unlike before this was not a gentle kiss. The touch was teasing, light before they hardened and firmed against her own. Coaxing her lips apart she felt the sultry brush of his tongue against hers. Throughout the span of the kiss his lead was inarguable. Her head tilted up in gentle compliance into the meeting of lips that seemed central to her existence.

Less significant was the way that his hands were moving over her back. From her hip up her spine, the large lightly calloused fingers traced over her shoulders and back down again. So lost in the kiss as she was Cassandra didn't realize until long moments after that the true aim of his fingers there had been to unlatch the bra that she had managed to pull on before he entered the room what seemed like a lifetime ago.

One long press against her lips later, Tom moved. Straightening for a moment he dragged his nose gently against her cheek.

"There now," he murmured softly, voice graveled with desire. His hands rested on her hips firmly. The thumbs pressed gently into the sensuous indentations there, tracing the lines over sensitive skin. His other fingers remained firm though, creating a grasp that Cassandra could not have escaped from.

It wasn't a thought that crossed her mind. She turned her head to catch his lips again, only parting when they both were breathing raggedly.

"There's your spirit." He chuckled quietly, bending down to score the sensitive skin of her neck with his teeth. He soothed the red lines with a hot press of his lips after, before pressing another kiss to the thin skin of her sternum. Tom bent further, lining her figure with kisses that varied from light, a teasing phantom against her senses to gentle nips after which he sucked the skin for a moment after, before soothing the reddened area with a press of his lips again.

Bypassing her breasts entirely, the man lowered himself to his knees on the tile floor before her. Having his eyes so close to the scarred, disfigured skin of the grafts gave rise to the uncertainty again. Cassandra made to shift uncomfortably but with his hands closed firmly over her hips Tom knew what was happening before she could commit to the movement. Leaning forward to drag the coarse hair of his beard over the sensitive skin of her abdomen, Cass was reduced to a quiet gasp, trembling instead of possibly moving out of his grasp.

"Beautiful," he murmured, though his lips were pressed against her hip as he spoke. From the way he was devoting so much of his attention to one area, Cass suspected dimly that there'd be a hickey there afterwards. The prospect of caring about it vanished the instant his hand carefully trailed down the back of her left thigh. He didn't shy away from the textured skin, the healing grafts. Settling his palm behind her knee a moment he urged her weight to rest more fully on her right.

Before she could process, her left leg was resting over his shoulder and his lips were pressed lightly against her core. Shuddering slightly at the touch on such a sensitive area, her hands reached back to help her lean back against the counter. Steadier now, her eyes opened as she looked down at him.

Tom's gaze met hers and she could feel him press a smile against her. Before the flow of thought process might interrupt, however, he breathed slowly against her core, the stimulation causing Cass to shiver again. His hand rested on her hip while the other traced the inside of her thigh. The dueling sensations had Cassandra's head lolling back on her shoulders. She was unable to repress the low groan that she responded with as the sharp bite of desire shivered up her spine.

His thumb spread her gently while his lips gently pulled at the center of her arousal. Unlike before this time Cassie couldn't keep the gasp contained. A low chuckle reached her ears as he sucked more firmly.

Her knees weakened and Cass was forced to lean back more firmly on her arms to stay on her feet.. Semantics escaped her as her frazzled brain might have pointed out that only one foot really counted at this point. Reclining more than she had been moments ago she found herself more exposed to the sensory assault that Tom inflicted on her, the varying textures – from teeth, lips, tongue, fingers or on occasion the deliberate rasp of his stubble - over sensitive skin left her breathless.

The heel slung over his shoulder dug into his back. Cass goaded him forward – forward to what, she couldn't say. She couldn't have put words to it but it seemed such pleading was unnecessary. Shifting his hand between her thighs slightly she had the inexplicable sense of being filled even as he tugged lightly at her center of pleasure with his lips. It was a ruthless, combined assault on her senses and even though Cassandra didn't cry out from the way her body tensed and rippled with shocks of sensation it was clear that her end had been met.

Rising fluidly from his knees as he gently lowered her foot to the ground Cass found herself pulled to a full standing position by his hands around her hips. Looking up at him, her cheeks flushed, she found that Tom could only grin down at her.

He bent down slightly, pressing a kiss against her cheek and Cassandra was struck with the acute realization that while she stood before him completely bare the only articles of clothing he was missing were his shoes and coat. It left her feeling distinctly vulnerable. Tom picked her up though, in the same bridal carry he had used all those days ago to bring her onto the plane.

Pulling her more closely against his chest he rested his forehead against hers a moment. "You're so responsive," he urged, desire thickening his voice. "It's so lovely. It's all because of me. You have no idea how gratifying that is, Cassandra. How arousing."

The heat of the bathroom was a fond memory seconds later. They passed through the doorframe and the hallway was traveled in a mere matter of strides. Another door was opened and they entered the room. Cass only got the brief impression that they had entered a bedroom before she found herself set down on a bed. Tom had bent down to place her gently on the mattress before he straightened himself.

Reaching down to peel off his own shirt Cassandra was a noteworthy audience as her eyes watched him covetously. Every inch of skin he revealed was appealing, she thought. Leaning back on her elbows as he kicked off his pants she found herself inundated with his presence seconds after. He knelt on the edge of the mattress between her legs. Tom's palms pressed into the mattress alongside her ribcage as he bent over her.

Cass reached up to wrap her arms around over his shoulders. Using the leverage to pull herself up she pressed her lips to his. Despite the fact that it had likely been less than a minute since they had left the bathroom it felt like an eternity to her. Pouring that sense of want and that desire into the kiss she was quietly pleased when he leaned into the contact, parting his lips to press more firmly into where they met.

And then it stopped. Tom abruptly straightened and an uncharacteristic swear crossed his lips. His head bowed, forehead pressing into hers as he groaned for a long moment, a rueful laugh taking over at the last moment.

"Condom?" He managed to venture, opening his eyes to gaze at Cass who immediately identified the dilemma. She hooked a leg over his hip, drawing him closer to her as she shuddered with the new contact.

"I'm taken care of… if you're clean?"

He groaned lowly in his throat before letting his teeth graze the edge of her jaw. It was a hum of quiet appreciation as he pressed his lips to where he had scored her gently seconds before. "Yes," he replied lowly.

Flexing his hips the weight of his cock brushed smoothly against her once, and again after. The slickness from his ministrations only aided the easy glide. As the passing slowed, Cassandra whimpered in plaintive protest. He was teasing her, now.

And then he wasn't. A slow, heavy thrust joined them in the way that had clearly been on their minds for neither knew, how long. A whine caught in the back of Cassie's throat as she was lowered back to the mattress, Tom following over her. His palms pushed down into the fabric at her sides, giving leverage to the motion of his hips. Her right leg crossed over his hips, goading him on.

Her nails scored the skin of his back as she arched against him, trembling from the stimulation so soon after she had come previously. As she clasped around him in such a way that Tom found he could hardly breathe, his forehead was pressed into her shoulder as he bowed over the blonde woman. Quiet groans and whimpers punctuated the slick slide of their bodies.

It was only when Tom stiffened as Cassie fluttered around him, and then let his arms give out and he fell to the mattress that they separated. Had she the energy, the woman might have fought her way to awareness to make her way to the bathroom in an attempt to set herself to rights. As he rolled over to the head of the mattress though, his arm looped around her waist and drew her close beside him.

That could wait, Cass thought as her breathing steadied. There was time for that later.

The young woman could feel her heartbeat slowing as the time passed. Seconds faded into minutes and a sensation of peaceable lethargy stole over her. Tom was sprawled on his back beside her, his arm looped snugly around her waist. She had settled against his side laying on her own right side, an arm thrown over his chest.

Feeling his skin against her own was comforting. Feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her into peace even more effortlessly. Not even reality could intrude so rudely on this moment.

It didn't matter that her hair was still wet and getting the top quilt on the bed wet. It didn't matter that she was scarred. It didn't matter that he was an actor people were beginning to recognize.

She was Cassandra. He was Tom.

That was the sum of it. That was the whole of it.

Except, Cassie thought, it wasn't. She sighed quietly without meaning to. The bedding rustled as he shifted beside her. Had she cracked her eyes open she would have seen him propped up on an elbow, turning over to look down at her.

"What is it?" It was a quiet question. He didn't push for an answer despite the fact that receiving one would alleviate a number of challenges. Understanding the fact that he was trying to be gracious in the aftermath, Cass's eyes fluttered open to meet his.

"What are we doing?"

A puzzled look was the first response she got. Cassandra's eyes shut again as her head lolled back onto the pillow. She sighed again.

"..This.. What is this, Tom? I don't.. know you. I know you as a person, but who you are? Where you've come from? What was this? Something that we pretend never happened? A one time thing? Is it-"

Clearly conscious thought and Cassandra Moore weren't the best of friends. Her mind had settled on the conclusion that this had been a questionable decision to make and running with that train of thought only gave rise to the plague of insecurities. Recognizing that, Tom had silenced her in the best way he knew. The arm around her waist curled more closely about the curve and pulled her closer to him. Pressing his lips gently against hers, he brushed a kiss softly over her cheekbone as well as he separated from her lips.

"No," he murmured quietly. "No. I have no plans on forgetting this, Cassie. Nor do I plan on walking away from it. We might have began it better but I think it's clear what this is. It's the start of something between us."

Tom broke off his words, pressing a small kiss gently against the corner of her lips again. "If you feel you don't know me, Cass, then ask. There's no expiration date on this. We can take all the time in the world to discover one another. No plans, alright?"

The reeling thoughts in her mind quieted. Anxiety ebbed away and whether it was the fact that he was so composed in the face of what had been on the verge of a panic attack or the logic he presented her that eased the sentiment she couldn't say. What mattered was the earnestness behind his words. Tom truly seemed to mean it.

Reaching up to trace the edge of his cheek to thread her fingers in his hair, Cassandra smiled at him slightly. "Alright," she agreed quietly.

A pause.

"Although you're going to have to explain the sister comment you made earlier. I'll own up to seeing what movies you've been in, but I drew the line at perusing various online biographies."

The sudden bite of humor in her voice startled the man. He fell back onto the pillows, laughing as he pulled her with him. Now sprawled nearly on top of him Cassandra could look down at his smiling visage. It was infectious.

"Darling girl," he replied between his chuckling. "I'm the middle of three. My older sister, Sarah, is a journalist. She's in India most of the times. Emma's younger, and she's an actor as well." Tom paused, looking up at her a moment longer. Leaning up, he pressed a kiss against her lips chastely as his arms wound around her waist again.

"I don't think I'll ever get enough of this," he interjected in his own train of thought. "But you? Family?"

At the thought, Cassandra shut her eyes and groaned. There was a pained humor in the expression as she let her head drop, forehead resting against his collar bone. "I have an older sister," she admitted quietly. "Samantha. She technically runs an art gallery which baffles me, as I normally hear about her gallivanting around the east coast with her old friends. She's three years older than I am."

Family. It would start with family, Cass thought ruefully. The one place she didn't want to think of.. but then, her mind drifted. Thoughts slid from Samantha to the image of Susan in her mind. The picture was muzzy around the edges, the distinction of details creeping from her memory. Realizing that brought a pang to her heart.. but something mattered, more.

'Would you be happy for me, Mom?'

Opening her eyes she found Tom's cheek pressed against the crown of her head in a comforting gesture. "So serious. Bad thoughts?"

Attempting to banish the depressing train of progression after so wonderful an evening Cassandra mustered a laugh. "What do you call a father who was one of eight – seven of them, boys?"

"..bad luck?"

"I'll share it with you," she offered with a falsely charitable grin. "I've incurred it for the past twenty four years. I figure it's time to offload it on someone."

Tom seemed chagrined. Cassie felt his arms close more tightly around her waist as he sat up, bringing her with him. Every movement he made was steady. She realized it was done in effort to avoid putting undue stress on the fragile skin on her left leg. The thoughtfulness brought an unheralded sting of tears to her eyes.

"Gads. You're only twenty four?"

She smiled crookedly at him. "Guilty," Cassandra confessed. "Although you can go on pretending I was however old you thought I was.. enlighten me. Whatage did you think me?"

His expression grew comedically alarmed. "I know a quagmire when I hear one." Tom shifted to the edge of the mattress, unabashed about his nakedness as he stood. For a moment both of them looked with no small amusement at the heap of clothes he had shoved off in such a rush earlier.

"Dinner," Tom brought up. "I promised you food.. although now I suppose neither of us are fit for a kitchen. I suppose we could dress and then take care of that issue."

Cass tilted her head at him with another impish smile. "I see how it is. Now that I've slept with you I have to help cook. That's what this sums up to be."

Coming to her feet beside him she did not expect the man to envelop her in a hug. Pulled so closely against him she was physically shaken by his expression of humor. Giving in to her own impulses she let her arms drape over his shoulders, giggling in chorus with his laughter. Tom bent down to kiss her forehead before straightening and stepping away.

"You," he proclaimed, "are a constant delight. Even if you elect not to aid in food preparation. I'll simply take it as testament that I've rendered you useless for other things."

Now that was a challenge, Cassie concluded with another laugh. Padding out of the bedroom while he rummaged through drawers for clothing after one wrong door she managed to locate the bathroom again. Despite the open door, the air inside was still warmer and more humid from her shower. Had everything truly changed so quickly?

It was a surreal thought.

Cleaning herself quickly, Cass went to pull on the overlong sweatpants first this time around. Tying the strings around her waist she blinked at the fabric that pooled over her feet. As expected it was a comedic sight. She managed to shrug on the dark purple men's v-neck shirt. For anyone else she might have thought it a bizarre wardrobe addition. With Tom? Well.. she simply wouldn't ask.

Looking at herself in the mirror Cassandra thought that she shouldn't have been surprised by what met her sight. The woman in the reflection.. seemed so unlike who she thought she should have been. That woman's eyes were bright and lively, her cheeks flushed becomingly with color and her lips, slightly swollen. Scattered all down her neck and even exposed by the v of the t-shirt were reddened patches of skin, from teeth, sucking or even whisker burn. Her breasts, without a bra, pressed against the slimly fitting fabric of the shirt.

She was not a composed picture. Never the less, she was breathtaking in how unapologetically alive she was. It couldn't be her, Cassie thought in astonishment. That woman could not be her.

And yet, it was. Coming to terms with that would take more time than was required to braid her hair, however. It would simply have to remain unresolved for the moment. Looping the hairband around the ends of the damp locks, Cassandra applied herself to endeavoring to find the kitchen.

Well, she would find the kitchen after another task entirely. Bending down to find where she had folded her jeans and placed them on the floor before her shower, she located the back pocket. Fishing her mobile out of it, when she brought the screen to life no indications notified her of any missed messages. So much for Jane wondering, Cass thought sourly. Rolling her eyes, she deftly navigated to her texts.

Won't be home until late, it read.

Moments later the phone vibrated. It seemed that her friend was indeed paying attention then.

If you're home before ten tomorrow morning Tom and I will be having a talk. You don't want me to have a talk with him. Have fun! ;)

…Been there, done that.

Then go for round two! Use your imagination. God. It's wasted on the youth.

GOODNIGHT JANE.

Oooh. Shouty response. My work is done. Leave a message on the fridge when you get home. Whenever you get home. AFTER TEN.

Incapable of repressing her humor at Jane's pointed closure to the text exchange, Cassandra switched the phone off. No one else would have anything to say to her and letting the battery drain was needless. Placing the mobile back in her pants pocket the woman's attention shifted back to what mattered. Dinner.

That, of course, required finding the kitchen. Upon doing so, she lingered in the doorway to observe him.

Unlike her, Tom seemed more put together. Unsurprising, considering he was wearing clothes that fit. The jeans were a surprising addition, but the button down shirt that was open at the top was something she was coming to associate with him. Propping her hip against the door frame she observed him rummaging about in the fridge.

"Have you any preferences?"

He had heard her, then. "Surprise me," Cassie replied easily. "But not with parents. Speaking of – yours?"

"Divorced," Tom replied easily as he straightened, placing a variety of vegetables on the counter beside the stove. "It's been years. Happened while I was in school. Yours?"

Cassandra sobered a moment, turning her eyes to look out the window. "Together for a very long time, before Mom passed. Dad's a piece of work, though. Workaholic. He isn't necessarily the nicest man. My mother would have liked you, though. She always told us – my sister and I, and my other female cousins.. there aren't many of us, despite the size of my family – that it didn't matter who we were with, so long as they were kind. They could be anyone or do anything and she wouldn't care.. so long as they were kind."

Her voice hitched at the memory. When Tom looked as if he were willing to abandon the food he was neatly dicing, she lifted a hand and shook her head to stay him.

"Happy tears," she replied finally after she swallowed the emotion. "Happy memory. The first I've managed, actually. Thank you for that."

He seemed to understand.

"My sisters will like you," he began but she cut him off with a laugh.

"Please. Sisters rarely like anyone their siblings are with. And if you tell me I'm wrong then clearly yours are more devious than you gave them credit for."

Tom seemed to mull over this a moment. "I defer to your superior judgment. So yours?"

"As much a piece of work as my father. Dad will flat out tell you he thinks you're doing something wrong, though. Sam is far more insidious. The mind games in my home growing up were truly frightening. Dad was lucky enough that he was too oblivious to the fact that he was constantly manipulated seven ways to Sunday. Ignorance truly was bliss."

She chuckled and Tom detected something quietly smug about it. It faded quickly though as a rueful smile came over Cassandra's features.

"Sorry. I'm disparaging about the lot of them sometimes, but.. they mean well. Dad can be emotionally tone deaf, though. Sammy isn't the greatest with words. I've learned that you have to discard a lot of what they say and try to interpret how they act to see how much they really care."

She said it so prosaically, but he understood the sentiment. Discarding the knife and the cutting board, Tom crossed the kitchen floor to take her hand in his. Pulling her close, he hugged her to his chest a moment, kissing the side of her cheek gently.

"You," he commented, "are a delightful creature regardless of the madness of your family. We all come with it, I think. No doubt someone will tell us that it builds character."

Cass chortled at that. Tucked against his side now, she found herself pulled closer to the counter where various items of food were scattered. Glancing at the array critically, she looked up at him ruefully. "Chopping it is, then?"

"Yes, darling," he replied with a laugh. "Chopping it is."

Applying herself to the task at hand, Cassandra wondered if this, too, might have simply been a dream. The evening passed as together they created dinner and then ate. Anecdotes from their past were readily shared, stories of wrongdoings and transgressions that evoked laughter helping pass the time. Later, they would come to sit on the couch with the television screen, a movie playing in the background, the only light to illuminate the room.

If it was a dream, Cass thought, then it was a lovely one – and one she did not need to wake from.


	24. Gone but Unforgotten

March 4, 2012

The morning had dawned, bright and clear. It was an unusual change from the typical grey overcast scenery that descended over London at this time of year. An unforgiving beam of sunlight had fallen over the pillows at the head of the bed. Spilling into the unquestionably masculine room it sought to goad the inhabitants awake.

Normally it seemed to Cass that Tom woke before her, whenever they were sharing a bed. It was not a daily occurrence. It was unspoken, but understood. Cassandra Moore still had healing of her own to do. The room she lived in, in Jane's apartment let her do that. It gave them both space while the two individuals seemed to take the time to painstakingly get to know one another. It was a slow process, but neither seemed to care. At least, Tom understood the woman's need for her own space.

Regardless it was equally not unusual for Cassie to wake up pressed closely against the man. It was too soon to identify a trend, she thought with an amused smile, but she was beginning to find a theme in it. She lay on her side facing the window for the most part. Behind her, Tom's heavy arm draped over the elegant curve of her waist. The hold of his arm wasn't cloying, but it kept her close to him.

That was how she woke up now. Despite the fact that only a sheet had been pulled up over their naked forms she wasn't cold. Feeling one of his legs against hers and Tom's chest against her back Cass could understand why. He was a veritable furnace.

Reluctant to stretch and potentially wake the man she only drew an arm up over her face. Draping her hand over her eyes she didn't want to look at the clock. The light was bright, the sort of illumination that the sun only cast at the very beginning of its waking hours. Repressing a grumble of discontent Cassandra endeavored to shut her eyes and drift back to sleep. The brightness made it challenging.

Of course, there were other distractions to be had as well. Tom's leg, threaded between hers, inched up and then down slowly. Had it been a stretch she would have thought he was just waking up. From the way that his fingers trailed delicately over the sensitive skin of her rib cage though, Cass surmised that he, too, had been woken by the sunrise spilling into his room. A low chuckle cemented the fact that he had been awake before she was.

His arms tightened around her, pulling Cassie back into his chest as he leaned over to press a kiss against the corner of her lips. "Good morning," he rumbled quietly.

Far less of a morning person the American turned her head slightly to meet his eyes with her own incredulous gaze. She had managed to rub the sleep out of them but even she couldn't repress the jaw cracking yawn that stiffened her figure. Unwilling to deign his words with a reply, Cassandra rotated in Tom's hold so she could press her face into the pillow that had been beneath her head.

It smelled like him. Crisp, clean, with a heavier edge of something unforgettably masculine.

She might have luxuriated in the sheets for hours had she remained undistracted. Tom's fingers gently stroking down the curve of her back certainly counted as a diversion. He smoothed his touch down the length of her bare skin before his palm came to settle flatly over her hip, curving around the bone in a hold that could only have been called possessive.

Propping himself up on his free arm, Tom leaned over her more fully. Cassandra felt the raspy brush of his beard against her shoulder, and then he breathed warm air into the crook of her neck. She shivered, and he laughed quietly in response.

"Come on," he entreated quietly. "If you can rouse yourself to it we can go for a walk. No one will be about at this time on a Sunday."

Cass was tempted to point out that she was more than content to be most people. Most people, she would have acerbically relayed, were clearly sane enough to enjoy the sleep and warm beds that held them. Moreover her warm bed held something far more inviting than it normally did. Why would she want to leave it? It was unsound logic!

Sighing, the note of hope that had highlighted his tone finally registered with the woman. He wanted to go for a walk? Then they would go for a walk. Turning again so she faced him fully, Cassandra Moore leaned over to brush a gentle kiss against his jaw. It was a gesture of comfort, of quiet agreement.

"You realize I only have the dress from last night here? I'm pretty sure that there's a number of practical reasons why going walking out in that is a bad idea."

Thirty minutes later found her on the sidewalk beside Tom, meandering along the shop fronts. Only a bakery or two were open at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. It was a good thing too, as far as Cassie was concerned. The flats she had worn last night were easy enough to walk in so she had those on her feet. No one could catch sight of them though, for the men's sweatpants she wore, despite rolling the hems and the waist, came down to the pavement. She also wore one of Tom's t-shirts though it was covered from sight by the length of her sensible pea coat.

It was not precisely the warmest of outfits she had ever worn out in March. Both of her hands were jammed deep into her pockets as she lengthened her stride to keep pace with Tom's. Neither of them had said much, although she suspected Tom had words he wished to speak. Perhaps it had been a peace offering. Understanding that the morning hours were far from her favorite, he kept the quiet in exchange for her company.

Even if that was not the rational behind it, it was still a nice thought.

Pulling one of her cold hands out of her pockets Cass reached over to wrap her arm around his. She didn't seek to link her fingers with his. That initiative had been his entirely. Seconds later, though, Cassandra found her hand held in his. The warmth of his palm enveloped hers, and she was comforted. Tom looked down at her, and registered the small smile of peace that ruled her expression. She clearly wasn't out of sorts.

Finding himself relieved by that, the man pulled them lightly to a stop. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. From the way that Cassie's chin was upturned to meet his gaze (the disparity of their heights never more apparent than now) Tom found that she had presented him with the perfect opportunity. Without releasing her hand, his other arm came to wrap around the small of her back. Pulling her closer he leaned down to capture her lips with his. It was nothing like the consuming passion from the night before. He didn't part his, didn't seek for her to part hers. The brushing touch lingered, though, as if he were reluctant to straighten, to let her go.

When at last he did, the arm around her back still kept her close. "Thank you. I appreciate you coming with me."

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to continue their walk after that. Cass had simply smiled at him, fallen in step with him as they continued to walk to a destination that only Tom knew. This time however, her head was leaning gently against his shoulder. Their clasped hands swung slightly in the air between them.

As they continued to walk her eyes began to recognize more and more of the landmarks around them. When at last Hyde Park came into view before them Cassandra was unsurprised. Even at this time of year, it was beautiful. Perhaps it was even more so for the lack of people in it. She could see no other individual traversing the paths through the park.

Tom guided them down paths that she herself had no knowledge of how to navigate. More than happy to follow his lead, she glanced for a moment at one of the benches that rested along the walkways. It seemed so familiar. If there was snow on the ground, and she was wearing a skirt she could have shut her eyes and believed herself back to that night in Michigan. Was that where everything had first begun to change in ways she couldn't hope to comprehend? Or had it happened earlier?

Cass wished she could answer it. Looking up at Tom as he squeezed her hand gently, she shook her head at his inquiring gaze. She hadn't yet found her voice yet for the morning and had no desire to try to explain it then.

Understanding her unwillingness to speak and not taking it to heart, the man tugged them lightly along the paths a bit further. Only once they had come off the main walks entirely did they stop. Cassandra took the opportunity to let her eyes wander over the scenery of the park. Even unmanicured for the lack of growing things, it was lovely. Behind her, Tom wrapped his arms around her waist, content to stand and look at what she was seeing from over her shoulder.

The tone of the moment changed though, as he rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment. "I brought you here to ask you something," he admitted quietly.

"I like you, but I won't lie. If it involves something sparkly or going down on bended knee, I'll be running to the best of my ability."

Her waspishly dry retort held an impressive amount of bite. Notorious for not being much of a morning person, it seemed that Cassie was willing to let blunt honesty rule her tongue at the moment. It was apparently a delight as Tom began to chuckle. Incapable of staying the laughter he straightened and squeezed her more tightly.

"You," he breathed softly against her cheek as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin at the back of her ear, "are a constant delight. No, wretch, it doesn't involve anything of the sort. Flighty type are you, though?"

His humor was contagious. Letting her own quiet giggle join delight Cass was content to settle more firmly back against him. His warm breath against her ear caused a shiver, and her head leaned back to rest on his shoulder. Placing her hands lightly on his where they were locked in front of her, she only smiled wryly.

"You could say that." It was a careful reply, and clearly one that didn't appease the man behind her. He nipped her earlobe gently in teasing reprimand.

"What! It's the truth!" Her protest was slightly more animated before Cassie laughed again. "Well. Pale imitation of the truth. It was always easier to avoid the confrontations when I was growing up. They were set up in a way that I could never win, so why bother? It's easier, still. Identify a problem and then just don't be around when it comes to a head."

Pragmatic words, though she was relatively certain there were several logical flaws that anyone could pick up on. Admitting it even in a flippant way was a challenge she hadn't anticipated. As if understanding that, Tom didn't seem inclined to push.

"Well," he replied after a long moment of quiet. "Then I'll simply have to endeavor to lock down the exits if something ever comes down to it."

Cass laughed in quiet agreement with his words though something deep in her heart stirred. The implication that he would be willing to even try was humbling… and it was terrifying. Quieted by that, she could only run her fingers lightly over the back of his hands, gazing more pensively at the park as it sprawled out before them.

Quiet descended over the pair. Had she realized how Tom was struggling to find the words for his query she might have spoken something – anything! – in an attempt to break the silence. Instead, seconds lingered into minutes. Cassie took the time to luxuriate in what the morning had given her. Even though waking up at half past six was the farthest thing from charming she could identify, there had been something so lovely in his presence from her first conscious thought of the day until now. Rubbing her hand over his again Cass shut her eyes a moment.

Peace. Maybe this is what peace was.

Behind her, Tom's inner state was far more tumultuous. Their effortless jesting had only brought another reason to be concerned into play that he hadn't anticipated. That, he supposed, was the way his luck went. Letting one arm of his remain locked around her waist his other hand reached up to settle on the front of her shoulder, the forearm crossing possessively over her torso.

"I'm going Stateside in April." He did not quite blurt the words out, Cass thought, but it was as near to the thing as Tom would ever manage to get. "There's a series of big premieres. California, Moscow, London.. It's going to be quite a bit of travel."

Cassandra blinked, mind reeling to catch up with the implications. It was nice that he was telling her this beforehand. She always knew that his life was subject to far less structure than hers. It was one of the perils she had recognized from the very beginning. The pit of her stomach however, dropped out at his words. What precisely was he saying?

Her large, uncertain eyes turned to look up at his. Tom made a severe profile. For the first time in memory Cass thought, he wouldn't meet her gaze. Was this… a goodbye? A thank you for a good time?

She tensed.

"It's alright," Cassie replied stiffly. Gone were the wash of warm feelings from earlier. "I understand."

Understanding didn't ease the pang of hurt that arced through her heart though. She tilted her chin up as she grabbed for the threads of her tattered pride. Cass's eyes turned straight ahead so she wouldn't have to betray the state of turmoil in her heart to him. She couldn't disguise the stiffening of her spine, though.

"Cass?" Tom ventured the query quietly, responding to her very tangible alterations. "Cassie?" He lightly sought to turn her with his hands but her tense body resisted the movement. "Cassie, what's wrong?"

Her jaw was tight. "Nothing's the matter, Tom. I understand that you'll be busy. I wouldn't want to impose on that. It's a huge move for your career."

The abrupt burst of laughter in her ear after her words was beyond baffling. It was, she reflected, actually quite rage inducing. Why was he laughing? What right did he have to respond so flippantly? The muscles in her body drew even more taut as if she would snap away like a stretched spring if she were released.

"Darling girl," he murmured, lips pressed against her ear again as his arms tightened against her once more. "I'm trying to ask if you'd come with me.. Although I think I'm doing a terrible job of it."

That certainly took the wind out of her sails. Geared for a fight, Cassandra's thought process had already been reeling down the justifications and the reasons why distance between the two of them would be good. Caught in that logic, the promise of.. whatever this was, had blind sided her. Blinking in shock, she found that his grasp permitted her to turn to face him, to take half a step back to face him.

"I don't understand," she replied guardedly.

"California. April eleventh. The first of the premieres is there, and I would be honored if you'd attend with me."

Spelling it out so baldly as that Cassandra couldn't even argue that her brain was misinterpreting the thing. There was no room for misinterpretation there. The logistics were staggering, though.

"Er.." Cassie grasped for the words. "Tom, I'm.. touched? Flattered? Staggered that you're asking me. I can't.. I mean.. how? I don't… I just.."

Fumbling for words was uncharacteristic of the generally poised young woman. Understanding a measure of her troubles, Tom chuckled again. Now that the fight had bled from both of them he had found much more comfortable ground. After all, he had spent several weeks attempting to figure out how to plan it, and how to present it to the woman. It had made sense in his mind though to her, a simple invitation didn't explain much of anything.

He tugged her close again in an embrace. "Because it's such an imposition, I was thinking that I'd manage any of the travel expenses. You'd be doing it as a favor to me."

Problem one addressed, Cass thought distantly. Logically, she could compute the words though emotionally she had yet to catch up.

"Honestly, I think you'd like them. My friends. I'd like you to meet them, if you're willing. We'd fly from London to New York and stay there for a few days before going on to California. A team would manage you for the premiere and you'd come with my friends and I. Rooming wouldn't be a concern of yours, either."

Lifting her hands she settled them on Tom's chest. Using the leverage from her arms Cassie managed to instill a little distance between them. Even when that was achieved however neither individual relinquished their touch of the other. Perhaps, she thought, that was an anchor through this. Perhaps it was a promise.

"I," she began carefully, composure trickling back into her as the seconds passed.

Tom leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her lips. "Please say yes," he entreated earnestly. "I won't push you after this if you say no. I'll understand no. It would mean so much to me, though, if you would say yes."

In the face of such genuine sentiment, what else could she do? Cassandra held no obligation that would restrict her to one place. There was nothing she could think of to give root to her fear, give her fear something to latch on for a gracious way out.

The woman inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes. When she exhaled, all of the tension ebbed from her body leaving her nearly limp in his arms.

"I'd like to come," Cass admitted quietly. "I will come. But understand that this – what you're telling me this is, is so far beyond what I even can process coping with that I'm terrified."

She was a schoolteacher from northern Michigan. What use had she for bright lights and red carpets? Her mind fluttered back to the War Horse premiere. That had been challenging enough. This seemed to promise something on an entirely different scale.

Tom leaned forward, a hand reaching up to cup her cheek gently. Looking down at her, his features had melted away into something quietly reassuring.

"There's nothing to be worried about, love," he replied softly. "You're going for a trip to meet some friends and see a movie. That's what this is. The cameras are incidental."

Put that way, Cassandra's lips stretched taut into a wry smile. Looping her arms up over the back of her neck she drew herself up onto her toes, pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of his lips. Moving away from that content, she didn't drop her arms. Instead Cassie used his figure to support her own, letting her chest rest against his as she shut her eyes and turned her cheek to rest on his shoulders.

"Then I'd be delighted to."

Even if she couldn't identify the moment when it all had begun changing, for as long as Cassandra Moore lived she would always be able to look back to that memory of that Sunday morning in Hyde Park and see it as a place where her life had begun down a path she would never be able to come back from. She could feel it in her heart, even now.


	25. A Face for the World

April 9, 2012

The last time she had been on a plane was in a situation not so very different from this. Struck by the uncanny similarity, Cassandra Moore sat up and blinked away the haze covering her eyes. Oh, yes, she was significantly more comfortable than she had been two months ago. It would have been hard to live up to that level of agony. The grafts, while not completely healed now, were well on their way.

The company, though, was shockingly similar. So was the scenery. The overhead light of the plain in the row in front of her indicated that Luke Windsor was awake as well. Throughout the rest of the first class area though it seemed that most everyone else was sleeping. Instead of using the brighter light attached to the ceiling of the cabin, Cassie had clipped a small book light.

It was bright enough to illuminate the words on the pages. Fine print, however, was uncomfortable enough to read in natural lighting. Laboring over the historical texts for hours had left her eyes feeling achy and dry. Flicking off the light, an immediate wash of darkness soothed her senses. In front of her, Luke's light was turned off as well.

Looking up in surprise as he stood and leaned over the seat, they both glanced at Tom in the same moment.

He, of course, seemed without a care in the world. The man's long legs were sprawled in front of his seat, his head lolling against the headrest. Even with first class accommodations his six foot two frame appeared awkwardly cramped. Perhaps it was a measure of how often he traveled that he managed to sleep so comfortably. Blinking at it, Cass turned her attention back to Luke.

He nodded slightly to the empty chair beside him.

It was a quiet invitation and it was one that Cassandra found herself reluctant to take. Looking at him consideringly she pressed her lips into a polite smile before rising stiffly from her own seat. Setting aside the textbook that she had lost herself in for the past two hours, Cass carefully navigated over the perils of Tom's outspread legs to gain the aisle. Nearly tripping in the last moment, Luke's warm hand curved under her elbow made certain that she stayed on her feet.

Flashing him a briefly grateful smile the woman straightened before she edged into the seat he had indicated. Traveling on a Monday was different. There were a slew of empty seats and it seemed that Luke had managed to have one of them beside his own.

After a moment of flat silence she looked over where he stood. "Hello," Cassie offered softly. It was a gesture that attempted to span the awkward chasm of quiet between them.

"Thanks for coming up," Luke replied with equal softness. "It was getting a little tedious up here. Can only work for so long."

She laughed politely, nodding in agreement. "There's only so much reading I can do at a time out of a dated book before my mind decides to demand something new. I can understand the sentiment. I hope there's nothing too pressing that you're having to deal with that's troubling you, though?"

It was polite conversation and Cassandra slipped into it effortlessly. Years of having it ingrained into her at her father's side had made it second nature. Regarding him through a carefully considering stare the woman found that the same expression had been reflected back on her. She merely smiled more politely in response to the look he gave her. In retrospect, Cass thought, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that Luke Windsor gave little credit to her capacity for the niceties.

After all, the last time they had met she had spent the bulk of the experience, sleeping. Cassie's teeth worried at her lower lip as she slipped further into introspection. The memory of that trip goaded her in many ways – but in others, it had been a blessing. Memories of pain and suffering would dim in time. Recalling the way that Tom had shouldered his way into her life unapologetically, though, was something that she would always be able to hold to her heart fondly.

Cassandra's bright eyes focused again on Luke's. The man simply maintained his considering gaze.

"I might have been holding onto the wrong impression of you," he admitted after a moment.

The expression of the sentiment startled the American although she strove not to let it show. A trickle of concern slipped down her spine. This, Cass thought, had the makings of A Serious Conversation – and one she would have liked to avoid completely. In such an effort, she smiled beguilingly, waving a hand in an airy gesture.

"That's unlikely," Cassandra replied with a light tone. "I'm really not that difficult to figure out. I'm afraid that I'm a fairly simple person, Luke. While I admit that I wasn't necessarily at my best the last we met, I'm not certain what idea of me you could have gathered from the experience."

Instead of being diverted by her attempts at ending the discussion the publicist only seemed more determined. The polite expression of sociability fell from his expression and in its wake a gimlet stare was fixed on her. She might have quailed in surprise at the look but Cass was made of stronger mettle than that. She had been tested in hotter fires she thought in a moment of inexplicable temper. This would not be the one to make her wither away in fear.

She stiffened in the seat, shoulders drawing back in a moderately defensive gesture. With her chin tilted up in the air and looking down her nose at him Luke thought she rather portrayed the idea of some elegant aristocrat sneering down at the general public. It was a well done effort, but not enough to stay him.

"You don't know what you signed on for."

It was not a hostile phrase. It wasn't even a reprimand.

The lack of something for her to argue against took the wind out of Cassandra's sails. While she did not necessarily wilt away, the proud posture eased slightly. There was no easy sally for that and her somewhat puzzled expression relayed that to him. Luke only sighed, folding his hands in his lap as he shifted to look squarely at her.

"You don't know what you're in for, Cassandra," he continued after a moment. His voice was lower, now. "The War Horse premiere went well. Astoundingly so. Honestly the truth of it is with the Prince and his Duchess attending, no one could have cared about any of the actors. You were spared much of the scrutiny because of it. This is big. You don't know how big."

The repeated insistence of the things she didn't know raised the woman's hackles. It was more than apparent that she was growing irked with the words he had to say. Nothing in the way that Cassandra sat betrayed it, however. Her arms fought the urge to cross petulantly over her chest. Instead, she simply pressed her lips firmly into a line as she inhaled slowly.

Only after she exhaled to both calm and steady herself did Cass even attempt to speak. "You say this like it should matter to me."

"Of course it does," Luke retorted cuttingly. The heat in the phrase scorched her as she recoiled slightly. "You're a fool if you think it wouldn't. You don't get into a relationship with an actor and not anticipate the repercussions. No one knows who you are – yet. But the fans? They'll rip you apart. The media will scrutinize you. Any possible story from your past will come out. The more sordid, the better. This movie, Cassandra, will propel him into a limelight of which the likes you can't comprehend. You can't possibly understand the repercussions of that."

Even at the beginning of what amounted to a lecture, Cassie realized where he was going with it. Instead of meeting his stare her own grey eyes turned out the window. No lights, other than those that blinked on the plane itself, could be seen. No stars. No clouds. Only dark silhouettes that indicated the promise of shape lingered within the parameters of her sight.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. Letting her fingers rest gently at the bottom of the window, Cass's head bowed slightly. It was not a dejected picture that she presented. Luke realized that the instant her shoulders drew back. She had receded into herself, drawing strength and conviction from the depths of her own thoughts.

The quiet between them was uncomfortable only for him once he came to that understanding. When she straightened though, and turned her eyes back to him, the dim lighting of the cabin couldn't accurately relay the strength of her expression. Her eyes were bright – with tears or determination, Luke didn't know.

"You say these things," Cassandra whispered hoarsely, her voice graveled with emotion. "You say these things as if I should run. As if I should be afraid.. The truth, Mr. Windsor? What is there for me to be afraid of? You don't know me. You don't know what I've lost, or where I've come from. How long it's taken to get here. The only truth you need to know is that he makes me a better person than I ever hoped to be. I've hated who I was for so long.. to know that I don't have to. It's staggering."

She paused, her breath ragged. The words were challenging. They were full of weight and a brutal honesty that ripped both Cassie's heart and soul to shreds. To strip herself so bare, though, naked to his regard, gave her strength.

"Help. When it comes to it, Luke, help. Don't try to scare me off with some vague prophecy of doom. Life is hard. The world is unkind. How can I go forward if I let those things keep me from the part of my world that brings me joy?"

It was a rhetorical question and one she wouldn't give him the opportunity to answer. Rising from the seat, Cassandra carefully edged her way around his legs to escape into the aisle.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Standing for a moment beside Tom's seat, just as she was making to edge her way over his legs to return to her own seat a hand reached up to curl gently around her wrist. Glancing down she found Tom's intent expression looking up at her. He tugged gently and Cass was pulled slowly into his lap.

Had she wished to she might have resisted. The loose way he held her wrist was indicative of that.

Perhaps the truth was, she wanted the comfort of his presence. Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she found that his arms came to rest quietly around her waist. His proximity eased the frantic racing of her heart. Her breathing slowed as well, leveling out to something that wasn't reminiscent of a post workout state.

Shutting her eyes Cassie let his presence envelop her. The smell that was distinctly Tom wrapped around her senses. The dim thrum from the engine lulled her even further into a state of relaxation. What cemented it though, was the steady heartbeat against her own shoulder as she leaned into his chest.

Cass sighed softly in contentment. She had not faltered when a line was drawn. When it might have been easier, once, to flinch away from that confrontation she had instead stepped forward to meet it. It was easier to fight for him.. for them. Perhaps that was how she knew it was the right thing to do.

"Serious conversation?" The low tone was unreadable as far as giving anything away. What he might have heard, Cassandra had no idea. Her own voice had been soft as had Luke's. The noise of the airplane should have muffled their conversation from the person sitting behind them.

Of course, if Tom had been awake all along she couldn't even hedge a guess as to what he had been made aware of. It was a distinctly unsettling feeling.

Cass laughed slightly. "Enlightening," she replied equally quietly. "It was interesting, I suppose.. but too much thinking for me, right now. Between classes and time zones, my mind's a cacophonous racket of disarray."

No one could deny her use of descriptions there. Chuckling in reply, he squeezed her waist lightly in a confining embrace. Her arms were caught at her sides the way she had been pulled down and where she wanted to loop her arms around his neck and return the hug she found she couldn't. Cassie did the next best thing.

Straightening up, she pressed her lips to his. While she might have initiated it, Tom was all too eager to abet her endeavor. Coaxing her lips apart with the tender ministrations of his own the kiss deepened more rapidly than either of them could have anticipated. The rattle of a flight attendant with a trash bag coming down the aisle jolted both of them to their senses.

Tom sat up in his seat and Cass pulled away. Through the dark first class cabin lighting he could see the sheepish, somewhat guilty expression she had adopted at their display. Releasing one of his arms from around her waist his hand came up to brush her cheek gently.

"There now," he soothed softly. "No harm's done." Tom leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, far more chaste than the one they had partaken of moments before. "I'm sorry, Cass," he admitted earnestly. "I forgot myself. You make me forget myself."

Her lips pursed into a wry smile. "If that's all you're forgetting then you're doing better than me." The sardonic admittance evoked a bright peal of laughter from the man. His arms fell as he let her go, although his hand held hers as she stood, steadying her through the brief tremble of turbulence.

"A finer compliment I could not have hoped for."

Cassie rolled her eyes in response. Elegantly collapsing into her own seat, the woman tried to smother back the jaw cracking yawn that overtook her. Failing to do so, she found her entire body trembling with the gesture. Fatigue nearly made her bones ache from the sensation. Repressing the groan at the knowledge there were hours yet to go Cass only sighed, shutting her eyes.

Sleep would only make it all go by more quickly, she thought.

So numb with exhaustion as she was the woman barely startled at the sensation of a blanket being settled over her. All she could find it in her to do was muster a small smile and give it in the general direction she knew Tom was sitting. She felt his hand smooth hair back away from her face in reply.

After that, her memory dimmed as restless sleep overtook her.

Long minutes of silence lingered between the seats that the travel companions resided in. Looking over at Cassandra, Tom found himself pensive. She had been so unflinching, so very full of conviction. It was heartbreaking, in many ways.

In the very least, it was a tragedy. If she couldn't see what was to love in who she was, then he would simply have to do it for her. In time, if Cass couldn't believe it of herself then perhaps she would believe it when he did it in her stead.

To such an end he stood quietly. Leaning over the back of the seat before him Tom glanced down at Luke. His publicist was awake, face turned broodingly out the plane window. Having the actor appear in his line of vision apparently did not startle him in the least. Luke didn't even bother to speak. Tom's grim, set expression told him everything.

"You won't do that again," Tom murmured quietly. "You don't get to make those calls. Not even if you believe they're meant to be in my best interest." Heat laced his words.

What made Luke Windsor know that he was brutally earnest though, was his features. Generally composed and capable of presenting an affable appearance to the world, Tom had lost the leash on those things. His hands, resting on the back of the chair, were clenched and white knuckled. His jaw was tight and the lines around his eyes were stressed. To such an end, the publicist nodded.

"I understand," he replied quietly. "But now she does, too. You haven't told her anything, Tom, not really. Is it fair to her to throw her into all of this so unprepared?"

Tom threw Luke a heated glance as he sighed in frustration. Bowing his head, a hand came up to rub his upper lip in an absent gesture. It moved to trail over his face before threading through his hair, tugging slightly before resting back on the seat. He sighed after a moment, straightening.

"No." It was a grudging allowance and the only one he would make. "You made the wrong call tonight, Luke. Surprising her is wrong, but terrorizing her is any better? No – I'll take care of it. In the future, let me know if you have these concerns again."

The publicist nodded, expression still easygoing. Tom's temper was, admittedly, not a surprise. Neither was his response.

Without being given something to fight against the actor sat down again abruptly, mind reeling with the implications. The things that he would have to tell Cassandra.. his lips curled into a grim expression. How he would even start it, Tom couldn't even begin to fathom.

Looking at her, though, her features smoothed with sleep, he came to the same conclusion that she had. It was worth it. No matter what it was they were fighting for, whatever name one could call it… it was worth the effort.

But still, there was something more to it than that.

She was worth taking care of. Worth fighting to keep in his life. Worth whatever trials he would have to face, to make her comfortable and at ease with the world he lived in. Resolved, Tom was finally able to let the tension ebb from his figure. He knew what he would have to do.

Now if only he knew how to predict her response to it.


	26. A Sense of Self

April 10, 2012

Tuesday at mid morning was clearly not the busiest time to be flying out of any of New York's airports. The terminals that Cassandra Moore had passed earlier were largely unoccupied and many of the gates were practically empty. It was a pleasant change to the normal frantic rush of travel. It also meant however that the normal diversion of people watching had been robbed from her. The inconvenience was a worthy trade. Taking into account the nearly desolate gate that their departure to Los Angeles would leave from, the flight crew waved the couple onto the plane nearly fifteen minutes before their scheduled boarding time.

Situated and seated in first class already, Cassandra glanced at the rest of the cabin. It, like the one from the flight from London the day before, was thus far, empty. Luke had business in the city to attend to and wouldn't be making the flight with them. After their rather pointed conversation the woman couldn't say she was too despairing over the fact.

Still, to be in Tom's company without any external distraction was.. diverting. She frowned pensively, mind wandering to the evening before. As she delved into the banks of memory beside her, Tom seemed content to gaze out the window as he seemed anxious for the time to pass.

It was a convenient silence that allowed Cass to reflect back on things she still hadn't quite come to terms with. There might have been experiences more bizarre that she could claim but none quite came to mind. Disembarking at five o'clock local time had meant the traffic out in the city had been considerable. Even within the airport itself, the crowds were dense. Perhaps it had been inevitable: the combination of rush hour traffic and the high population meant that Tom would be identified eventually.

However it hadn't been someone recognizing the actor that dragged at Cassandra's attention first. It was the poster advertising on the side of the hallway that they walked through. Their pace was relatively sedate, a concession to her own stiff scar tissue after uncomfortably long hours of travel. Leaning slightly into the arm that wrapped comfortably around her waist Cass could put her faith in the man to direct her.

She could let her attention wander that way. However in retrospect she wished she hadn't. The man in the poster only had the vaguest of similarities to the one she knew. The thin lips pressed into that familiar line, and the aristocratic nose was unmistakable. Beyond that however Cassandra might not have been able to see Tom in the character he portrayed.

Apparently she was one of the few who would. Tom himself was drawn to a halt. In a moment's span of time Luke had stepped up beside them and offered Cass an arm to lean against heavily. Attempting to process the sudden switch the woman looked over at the actor again.

The smile he offered to the three women in front of him was one that Cassie could have called his social face. It was charitable and kind, but unrevealing.. less charitable, however, were her thoughts. The expression on the faces of the women – girls, really, she thought sharply. They looked like the age her students would have been – were utterly transparent. Cloying adoration slicked through their interactions.

Registering what was happening Cassandra shifted to settle her weight on her left leg and nodded slightly at Luke. "Thank you," she offered quietly before leaning more reliably on the luggage she had claimed. "I appreciate it, but if there's something else you should be doing.. please, don't inconvenience yourself on my account."

Her words apparently had relieved him of his own internal conflict.

Assured of her own ability to manage herself the publicist began his own adept intervention. Watching the interactions and Tom's graciousness was.. discombobulating, Cassandra thought. It was, however, a scene largely forgotten by the time they had boarded another plane the next day. Dinner, a shower and a night's sleep held quietly in his embrace washed away the bizarre nature of those moments.

It was unfortunate however that Tom seemed determined to rehash them.

From where he sat in the seat nearest to the window he reached out to secure Cassandra's hand. He laced his fingers through hers as she was jolted from her own musings. Looking up at him in mute surprise, the woman tilted her head to the side slightly. His features were uncharacteristically somber.

"There is something we should talk about," he began quietly. "I just don't know how to say it. I have no idea of how to begin."

Her heart fluttered uneasily. Conversations that began like this had no expectation of positive endings. Cass shifted unsteadily in her seat as her jaw firmed. Swallowing away the anxiety the woman took advantage of the emptiness of the cabin to remain quiet a moment longer. Collecting herself she lifted her eyes to Tom's as an uncertain, but encouraging, smile overtook her features.

"Generally context is where I encourage my students to start in papers."

Her dry repartee merited a chuckle from the man. It broke the tension that was settling in his shoulders. However, it had done nothing for Cassie's. She remained locked onto him with bated breath. The insecurity she was feeling must have been transparent on her face as he squeezed her hand lightly.

"And preferring not to be a fool, who am I to argue with academia?" She tilted her head to the side in silent response. Taking it as encouragement to continue Tom only sighed. "I spoke with Luke briefly yesterday."

Funny, Cass thought sourly. So had she. The woman just barely managed to repress the somewhat reproving expression that fought to flicker over her features. Knowing what it would seem like she only lifted a brow, again in silent inquiry.

"He accused me of doing you an injustice," Tom admitted softly. "Of not giving you a chance. Cassie, I hope you will not judge me harshly for it when you hear what I have done: know that what I have done was not done in malice."

"This isn't reassuring," she interjected at last. The dry tone of her voice hadn't abated in the least, although it was somewhat hoarser than it had been before. Panic fought to creep into it although she was determined to keep it at bay.

He sighed, his free hand fidgeting on the arm of the seat. "I apologize," Tom began again. "This feels like an inappropriate way to start a conversation. Clumsy, in the least. I suppose there's no hope for it though.. I dated a woman. An actress.. Largely, it's irrelevant. The past. There's no worries about that, Cass – please don't think that's why I brought this up." The man exhaled again, frustrated. The nervous tension was nearly palpable in his figure.

"This is a tremendous moment," Tom concluded at last. "There have been films, before. There have been parts. What this will be is something else entirely. Even before this there were problems, though. Publicity will chase you – you, not just me. The media, the fans.. there may be vile stories from people who believe they know best." He paused, looking over at Cassandra. She was unmoving, her features maddeningly unreadable as she watched him calmly.

"I should have told you about this earlier. I haven't, and I apologize." It was a rushed conclusion in the wake of the serenity that Cass projected.

She only dropped her eyes, a maddeningly incomprehensible smile playing around her lips. Cass shook her head slightly. "In many ways you're right," she replied at long last. "You should have told me about this earlier… but from the very beginning I knew what this was." What you were, her mind added. "I am – was – a teacher, Tom. Do you really think that charity dinners in fancy dresses make me comfortable? You were, though."

It could only be summed up as the disparate nature between them. Cassandra Moore craved a quiet Christmas in front of a fire with a friend and a cup of tea. Tom had thrown himself into a career where the cameras would strip bare his soul for every secret he would divulge. Cassie had always seen it.

She squeezed his hand lightly. "It's alright, Tom. Whatever this is, wherever this goes.. If we're aware of the challenges we can manage them as they come."

Despite her words of quiet confidence there was an undercurrent of unease that ripped at her self assurance. How could someone so private, so reserved cope with this? The answer, Cass thought after a moment, was by staying by his side. Even if she did not need that rock of support to maintain her identity, then he could, at least, offer her shelter from the storm.

Tension seeping away as that resolution offered her solace Cassie lifted her eyes again to smile at Tom.

Tom, whose attention was firmly fixed elsewhere at that moment. He had straightened in his seat. The fingers laced with hers slid out as he stood, eyes locked on the door to the plane. Turning her own gaze in that direction Cassandra immediately registered the large, blonde man who had ducked in.

If Tom had seemed laughably tall in the confines of the aircraft cabin this man firmly put him to shame. Blinking at the way his features melted into a grin, the stranger's long strides carried him over to the seats where she and Tom had been sitting in. Leaning over her, Tom embraced the man, clasping him on the shoulder in an air of familiarity that bespoke of an esteemed friend.

The words they exchanged were bright, quick and excited. Registering the stranger as the actor that Tom had worked with previously, Chris Hemsworth, Cass glanced over at the Englishman. Accented voices – a light tenor and a deeper baritone – melded over one another to the point of a near incomprehensible cacophony. The measure of delight from both men was impossible to ignore.

Turning her knees carefully to edge into the aisle beside Chris, a soft "I beg your pardon," gained her clearance to stand. It was perhaps, not the most tactically sound decision she might have made. The flat shoes worn for comfort gave her no help when it came to Tom and Chris. Looking up – and then up further – she couldn't help but be taken aback by the feeling of being small.

"Please," Cass interjected in a moment of quiet as both men glanced at her as she shifted locations, "feel free to sit. You seem to have quite a bit to catch up on." The charitable offer was met by a wide grin from Tom who nodded. In quick succession, Chris seemed to have joined him although the Australian did, she noted, take the time to thank her for the offer.

In return she got the aisle and seat number of his. Blinking at the confines of the small first class cabin Cass took a moment to wonder at what point the fabric of her life had been altered so strangely. Locating the seat that was on Chris's ticket and leaving the two friends behind to their own discussions Cassandra slowly lowered herself into it. Unlike the two located side by side, this seat had an empty one on either side. In a head nod to the fact that it was first class the accommodations were still generous and uncramped but she was still stuck in the middle.

She sighed. A book in her hand, that she had grabbed before she stood, was brought into her lap and opened. In the background the quiet thrum of the engine was a fitting counterpart to the light male voices that overlapped it. Letting her attention fade, Cassie let focus shift firmly to the book's words.

So engrossed in her reading, it was effortless to overlook the fact that she had to fold her legs in more closely for someone to step over them to reach the seat to her left. The one on her right was also, in short order, occupied. Lost in the study of philosophy that she had been attempting to sort through for the past several days, Cass dedicated herself to ignoring the individuals on either side.

The attempt was rather more difficult when from her right a masculine throat cleared. She didn't respond to it.

It cleared again.

Finally looking up, Cass's bright eyes flicked to her left in polite curiosity. The mien of casual attention disguised the inquisitiveness she had. The man seemed vaguely familiar in a nagging sense. She couldn't identify him in that moment but his face..

"I think you're in the wrong seat," he bluntly told her, the instant he had her attention.

Forget his face, Cassandra thought sourly. There were clearly large problems at hand. Offering him a blandly polite smile the woman inclined her head slightly.

"Yes," she agreed quietly.

The silence dragged on for a moment. It was apparent that he had anticipated her departure and relocation. Cass's lack of movement however offered a more complex situation to deal with. His darker blueish grey eyes offered him an intent stare. It was, however, no match to Cassie's own guileless mien. She offered it to him blandly, as if she were unaware of the awkwardness that the situation had created.

"I think what he's getting at," a feminine throaty voice from her left spoke. "Is that wouldn't it be best to move to your seat now? They're doing the checks for takeoff."

Cassandra looked first at the seat she was meant to have. Tom was nearly invisible behind the Australian actor, who had seated himself. Smiling wryly, she adjusted her attention back to the woman to her left. Her lips parted in an attempt to politely remark that it was rather impossible to do so (her money would be on Chris winning out that tussle for a seat) but the words stayed trapped in her mouth.

The beautiful blonde beside her was unmistakable.

Silence ticked by. Apparently Scarlett Johansson was used to eliciting such a response, as her features were only politely patient while she waited for the other woman's thought process to catch up. When it did, Cassie could only laugh uncomfortably.

"Well this is awkward," she remarked dryly after a moment's pause. Trying to blink back her bemusement she glanced to the man on her right. He, too, was identifiable now in context.

Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner – and they, likely, were anticipating Chris to be seated with them. Unfortunately the wayward Australian had elected to get lost elsewhere.

"My seat is.. currently occupied," Cassandra ventured politely again, the depreciating humor choked back by the niceties. It was easier that way. They're just normal people, she told herself. There was no need to be utterly stupefied.. although it was so much easier when she couldn't recognize them. Interacting with them on a basic level was significantly more simple at that point.

While she had been lost in her own struggled attempts to reorient herself the other blonde American woman had been piecing together bits of a puzzle. Cassandra's somewhat lost look over in Tom's direction had been the final clue that Scarlett had needed. Smiling more kindly this time, the smaller woman turned to look over at the two foreign actors with a fond expression.

"They get excited when they have the opportunity to catch up," she offered to Cass with a kind smile.

It was something that Cassandra could clutch onto. She laughed gratefully, nodding in quiet agreement. The exchange however seemed to have happened in a sphere where the language only made sense to the feminine persuasion. To her left, Jeremy made a sound of disgruntlement.

"Now I'm lost."

Pursing her lips as she inhaled slowly, Cass settled back into the seat so she could see both of them at the same time.

"I'm Cassandra Moore – it's nice to meet you both." It was a subtle jab at the lack of introductions, although the acidity, she thought, was more for the Englishman who had become so engrossed in his own affairs that he left her to smooth over the rest of this on her own. "This is sufficiently awkward.. I came with Tom. Although it seemed that he and Chris had a lot to say to one another. I gave him my seat. I am sorry for the inconvenience.."

The man looked suitably sheepish. "Sorry," he dragged out after a moment. There was something youthful about the abashed way he said it. "Jeremy. Good to meet you."

Scarlett interrupted. "And I'm Scarlett. Sorry for that earlier. It can get uncomfortable sometimes."

Her frankness was disarming, Cassandra thought. Perceptively though, she concluded that there was more than what the other woman was sharing. Still, it was a kind gesture to smooth it over. She smiled slightly, nodding her head.

"It's alright. I'm getting rather talented at navigating moments like these, although I appreciate your charity in being willing to put up with me."

Jeremy snorted in amusement. "More like you putting up with us."

"I'm not much of a babysitter," Cass replied easily, lifting a brow.

Scarlett grinned. "Excellent. Then we'll have fun and Chris and Tom will just have to be jealous that they've missed it."

The man on the far right smiled smugly. At the expression Cassandra felt as if it would have been worthwhile to try to curb whatever thoughts he was thinking but Scarlett was apparently already on that. She reached over Cass to smack the man's arm.

"Out of the gutter," she reprimanded with a laugh.

"Gutter? I don't know what you were thinking.. Apparently you're the one with the mind in the gutter!"

"Oh please," Scarlett scoffed. "Who do you think put me there?"

It was a rapid fire exchange. Observing it felt like she was watching a tennis match. Falling silent and remaining on the sidelines would have been easiest had their eyes – both sharp and in shades of blue – not looked at her, consideringly. It was an assessment, trying to see how she had kept up.

Rising to that line, Cassandra lifted a brow and gave them both an enigmatic look. "I don't know. I suppose we're both very pretty blondes, but Chris seems so much more statuesque. I'm not sure Tom would be terribly envious."

The inference didn't escape either of them. Scarlett seemed pleasantly surprised by how their newfound acquaintance was keeping up. Jeremy made a sound that was almost as if he had choked on air. Wheezing, he wiped at watering eyes before the smug expression shifted to something unmistakably more lecherous. Even Cass, a veritable stranger, could see the teasing glint in his eye.

"Quick. Move over, Cassandra. I'll get between you two. Every man will have to be jealous."

This time the innuendo that he was alluding to merited him a sharp elbow to his ribcage from Cass. He gave her a wounded look even as Scarlett cackled from her left.

"By the way," she remarked, glancing over at Scarlett after meeting Jeremy's eyes. "It'll be an uncomfortably long flight if you keep calling me Cassandra. Cass works just fine."

Despite the oddity of the moment, it seemed to have passed by unremarkably. From that point on the conversation was rapid. Forgotten was the book in her lap, closed without even a page marker. The two individuals bracketing her were too provoking to even let her thoughts linker in another direction. Bright, quick conversation that surprised her at how fluidly it moved demanded her full attention.

It was a nice change from the generally quiet flights she had been having in recent memory. There was something unapologetically alive about the experience. Invigorated and vitalized by it, Cassandra let her head fall back as she laughed at something that Scarlett had delivered in a dry voice, slicing a suggestion of Jeremy's to bits.

It was nice, she reflected. Nice to laugh. Nice to be alive.

While it hadn't necessarily grown quiet in the small first class cabin, Cassandra Moore no longer had to speak. The plane had taken off and while that had passed in a blur of lively conversation – both Tom and Chris in one section of the cabin and Cass, Scarlett and Jeremy at another – the bright words had tapered off as time passed. Off to the left, the two foreign men continued their own discussions.

It was harder though, for complete strangers to keep things going. With the expectation of the flight lasting somewhat longer than five hours, exhausting one's conversational supply early on was a bad idea.

Already, Cassie knew more about both actors than she had anticipated. Jeremy lived in California and renovated classic houses before selling them as a hobby. Scarlett teased him that he only did it so he could get away with wearing ratty boots everywhere. She, on the other hand, enjoyed cooking for a hobby and apparently could take over the world with some of her confectionery delights. That last point was delivered by Jeremy in a weighty, serious tone.

What did a teacher from New York have to say to that? She ran for a hobby. She enjoyed reading but, she admitted with a wry laugh, putting her in a kitchen was a recipe for disaster. Nothing edible would result from that adventure.

It took longer than Cassandra might have expected. However, long after the plane leveled out and the seat belt sign was turned off both Scarlett and Jeremy migrated over to the seats where Tom and Chris were located. It was no slight, and the woman remained unoffended by their departure. It was as good a time as any to return to the philosophical endeavor that was her reading.

She looked down at the title in her lap with some disfavor. Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche glared back at her. It was an intriguing text, but the ideology behind it.. Cassie sighed, pushing some of her hair back to tuck it behind her ear. Flipping open the cover she sought the page she had left off at before being so abruptly interrupted as she had been what must have been, hours earlier.

In her own world silence reigned supreme for an immeasurable amount of time.

As it passed though, the conversation elsewhere in the first class cabin was disrupted slightly. The seating arrangements had altered slightly with Scarlett and Jeremy's inclusion. Seated by the window where Tom had originally been found, the woman leaned back to grin up at the men. Beside her, Tom sat where Cass (and then Chris) had been found, speaking animatedly. Jeremy leaned over the back of their seats from the empty row behind and Chris stood in the aisle beside them all in a bid for head-room.

Despite the conversation the other three were having, Chris's attention drifted slightly. He glanced over his shoulder to see the blonde woman who had given up her seat to him hours before. It was a charitable gesture and now she had been left alone because of it. His conscience panged and he leaned over to get Tom's attention.

"Not to interrupt-" which was a foolish statement, considering that's exactly what he planned on doing "-but who is she, Tom? You never said."

It was a topic that Scarlett was eager to get involved in. Resting her chin in her hand she gazed pensively at the Englishman. "Too right. No introductions, either."

At the reminder, Tom's expression morphed into something horrified. Chris might have laughed if he didn't feel a pang of sympathy for the man.

"Damn it all," Tom breathed. His eyes shut in something that might have been agony. "I'm an ass." He made to stand from his seat but Chris stayed him with a hand.

"No," he replied in a low, easy voice. "It's alright. I'll go sit with her. Everyone else has gotten to. It's my turn, isn't it?" With a grin, the Australian turned to navigate to where the woman had been seated in isolation for the better part of an hour. It didn't seem that she minded much, given the composure of her features and the attention she gave to the book.

It still bothered Tom, who watched Cassandra pensively. She had been so kind and he had repaid her with nothing but thoughtlessness.

"She's alright," Jeremy remarked, interrupting his thoughts. "Really."

Scarlett nodded, offering a kind smile to him. "And interesting, too. She's very composed, even when she's surprised."

Horror must have been apparent on Tom's face as he looked at the woman. How would the teacher have responded to seeing Scarlett next to her? The question must have been transparent on his features.

"She just said 'well, this is awkward'. And then laughed." Scarlett grinned at the memory. "And she didn't hesitate to lay into Renner, here. He deserved it."

"I'm not a gentleman, what can I say?" Jeremy shrugged pragmatically. "I can't help it. You're gorgeous, she's beautiful. It's any man's dream. Still think I should've gotten in the middle of that."

"Dream is the word you used there," Scarlett retorted playfully. "In reality it would've been she and I and you would be left out on the curb."

"Cold," he said theatrically, shivering slightly. In a second's notice his attention locked back on Tom. "But who is she? We got that she came with you. Friend? Family associate?"

Hardly, Tom's thoughts screamed in reply. He maintained his composure though as he offered them a broad grin. "Other," he replied after a moment. "Undefined, but most certainly other."

"Better get on that quick," Jeremy replied with a grin. "She's hot. If you don't, I will."

The Englishman's levity faded away in the blink of an eye. "Not a chance."

"Boys, boys," Scarlett replied, her husky voice cutting over whatever conversation might have continued. "Do you know nothing? It's always the married man who wins out on this one." She nodded to where Chris had taken the seat beside Cass, their conversation quiet.

Jeremy and Tom stared at it a moment before looking back to Scarlett.

"Well, damn," Jeremy replied after a moment. "I'm screwed."

At about the same time, Cassandra had been disturbed by the sense that someone else was nearby. Without actual connecting seats it was impossible for her to have said that the depression of her own seat was what alerted her. Never the less, she looked up and blinked in an expression of her own surprise.

It was a mild way of betraying herself but it was a betrayal never the less. Hopefully the man beside her wouldn't manage to interpret it thusly, though.

Such hope was in vain as Chris smiled lightly at her. Offering her a hand, his features had settled in a way as to seem kindly inviting. "Hello," he began in his deeply accented voice. "I'm Chris."

What was the appropriate response to a moment like this? Cassie couldn't quite determine what the correct reply should have been. Gingerly reaching out to rest her hand in his, the shake was brief but reassuring. His hand was warm and calloused, enveloping hers. It was a comforting sensation.

"It's nice to meet you," she ventured warily, somewhat more guarded than she had been with Scarlett and Jeremy. Seeing the rapport this man had with Tom elevated him to a different status. "I'm Cass."

His lips lifted into a freer smile. "Cass," he agreed easily. "I meant to thank you earlier but – men. We're foolish creatures and forget things on the drop of the hat. I'm sorry about that, but I'll thank you now. It was good to be bale to speak with Tom again."

She waved her newly free hand in an easy gesture. "No," Cassie returned softly. "No need to thank me for that."

"Not thank someone's consideration?"

Put that way, Cassandra supposed it was a rather foolish thing to say. She laughed ruefully, shrugging slightly. "Sorry. I'm just a little.."

Silence dragged on as she struggled to find a descriptor that wouldn't be.. well. Horribly insulting, she supposed. Actors were people too although the media often seemed to elevate them to something beyond that. Having to interact with them was exhausting and more than that, it was humbling. Never had she been more aware that she was only Cassandra Moore – high school history teacher. It was grounding.

"No need," Chris interjected after the moment of quiet. "I understand. It has to have been an interesting day."

The words evoked a bright peal of laughter from the American woman. It was strangely startling as Chris raised a brow at it. Neither of them noticed the other three in the first class cabin craning their head to see what was going on.

"Interesting is such a dirty word," she replied with a grin. Her eyes danced with levity at the thought. "It's like calling something special. Or unique. You use it when there's no way to positively describe what's going on, and to avoid giving insult!"

Put that way, Chris couldn't help but laugh in return. The quick wit that the woman displayed was disarming. Moreover, the humble charm she seemed to embody was endearing.

"Then Tom is definitely interesting," he replied with a grin.

"Oh, certainly!" Her brows lifted in mock scandal. "And so unique!"

The humor had given Chris the opening he needed. "And you? What would you be?"

Such a quick turnaround might have jolted anyone else. For her part Cassandra caught the topic change with a sharp look. The unguarded expression from earlier receded into a more restrained look as she watched him with something akin to reservation.

"Nothing of interest," she replied in a softer voice. "Certainly not unique. Perhaps my character flaw could be dull."

It was such an abrupt change of mood. The levity that Chris had tried to instill in the conversation as a way to smooth over his prying disappeared. His grin receded into a more considering look, his pale blue eyes fixed on the woman.

"Not uninteresting," he returned quietly. "Never that. You've thoroughly managed to enrapture a man that I always thought of as very stable, and a good friend. Someone who can do that isn't boring."

She blinked. The attempt at character modesty had failed. Leaning an elbow on her knee, she let her palm pillow her chin as she looked at him assessingly. "What is it that you want?"

In the blink of an eye good humor was restored. He chuckled, the laugh low and nearly reverberating through her bones by the proximity. "So suspicious! Everyone else had a chance to meet you. I thought it was my turn."

Cassie pressed her lips into a rueful smile. "I'm not really sure I can tell you that it's time well spent."

The tall man leaned back into the seat, apparently comfortable. It was a bizarre conversation that they were having but telling in its own way. "Hardly." His easy retort left much to be desired. However, when Chris offered her a kind smile Cassandra couldn't help but return it. He inspired it, she supposed.

"It's never a waste of time to meet new friends."

Thoroughly stymied by the reply, she parted her lips to try for a saucy retort. Failing to find one at the tip of her tongue, they closed again. She simply gave him a playfully vexed look. Chris only laughed, reaching over to rest a large hand on her forearm, squeezing gently.

"You're very annoying," she concluded at last, a laugh taking the sting out of her words.

"My wife tells me that frequently," Chris retorted. "You're going to have to try harder if you're looking to tell me something I don't know."

"Oh," Cass remarked, tone sounding a touch more smug. She raised a brow at him. "You're married. That explains why you actually make sense."

That got a response out of him. He choked, before his deep laugh resounded through the first class cabin again. Chris seemed delighted by Cass's tart rejoinder. It was a surprise, given the woman's apparent adherence to polite cordiality that would have kept him at arms' length.

"You would like her. Or she would like you. Or both." He paused, resting his hand on his chin for a moment. "I'll make sure you don't meet without supervision. That would be troublesome."

She delivered him an impish grin for that one. It was a far more likable woman than the one he had initially sat down beside. She was lively, Chris thought after a moment. Cleverness gleamed within her eyes, a bright mischievous character that promised at something wickedly fun should someone be brave enough to venture it.

"It sounds dangerous," Cassandra remarked after a moment. "I'm sure I'll be delighted to make her acquaintance."

Chris knew he would be, when they met. The woman was maddeningly obscure. Trying to pin down the nature of her character was proving nearly impossible. It was almost as if she was in an audition, for the leading role of the story of her own life. It was a somber thought, in retrospect. Cassandra Moore was so keyed into the situation she had found herself in, that she performed so very well.

Every gracious move was executed perfectly. The one liners she offered were breathtaking in their delivery. It was nearly impossible to see that there was something more beneath it.

The smile he gave her was far more intimate than any expression he had made before. There were no creases alongside his lips, a broad grin that cameras loved. Taking one of her hands and holding it in both of his, Chris looked down at Cassandra Moore with his steady regard. "We'll be friends," he said quietly. It was nearly a decree.

She raised a brow at that, and his solemnity didn't change.

"New friends," he clarified after a moment. "And you can tell me about your life and I can tell you about mine. And then we can drink and we'll forget about the way we met unless it's to drag it out to tell it to someone else who doesn't understand why we get on so well."

Cassie gaped at him. Any attempt at composure had faded with the audacity of his comments.. but still, there was a pang of longing for what the words offered. Friends. It would be interesting. Realizing that he had no intention to prise her secrets from her now, she offered him a warmer smile.

"That would be… nice," she replied softly. "Friends. It would be fun."

As he laughed at her tentative rejoinder, a feeling of warmth spread through her figure. It would be alright, Cassandra thought. It would all work out.

The feeling was cemented when at long last the plane landed. The five passengers in first class had spread out by that time, and they glanced at one another. Scarlett had made a lunge for the luggage that was stored in the overhead compartment. Beating her to it, Chris effortlessly lowered it and apparently, had no inclination to turn it over to the woman.

By the time Cass turned her attention to where hers had been stored she found Tom in possession of it already. Blinking at that, she wondered if it was worth the fight. Nearby, Scarlett only scoffed before pulling a hat on over her blonde locks and putting sunglasses on.

"I," she began loftily, "will meet you all out in the terminal."

Jeremy followed her closely, as did Chris with her bag. It was an organized departure and one that left Cassandra gawping with their efficiency. She was both terrified and inspired by it all. However the more pressing fact that she had been left alone with Tom for the first time since Chris had interrupted them hours earlier registered in her consciousness. Her blue eyes lifted and found them locked in his own gaze.

Tom was smiling sheepishly, his expression, contrite. "I'm sorry about that, Cass," he began quietly, as she stepped out into the aisle to precede him off the plane. A warm hand came to settle at her back as she carefully navigated the uneven footing.

"I didn't mean for that to happen so badly."

The bubble of resentment for having been left to fend for herself abated. Reaching back to loop her fingers lightly around his wrist, Cassandra sighed. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, her long legs delighted in the way they were finally permitted to unfurl.

"It's alright, Tom," she offered softly. "Just.. don't leave me to navigate that on my own again, alright? They're all delightful – you have wonderful friends – but it's.. I don't know how to do that, Tom. I can if you need me to. But I need your support if you expect me to succeed."

His fingers curled lightly around her hip as his hand migrated from the small of her back. When they were both finally out of the narrow confines of the plane and walking up to the building proper Tom drew up alongside her. Cassie felt the drag of his leather jacket as it was wrapped around her waist. She leaned into his side lightly, as best that she could while they walked.

"Thank you." The words were unheralded to the point that Cassandra found herself looking up at him in surprise. The toes of the flats that peeked out from under the hem of her black slacks didn't give her any advantage of height. She was forced to crane her neck to manage to meet his eyes.

Noting her surprise, Tom shook his head slightly with a rueful smile. "You leave me speechless with your generosity," he continued quietly. "No word of reprimand when I've been the fool, or been a cad. You give me so much, Cass."

She rested a hand on his as it rested over her hip. "I have nothing to give but my heart so full."

Tom turned his palm as so to have her fingers laced with his. "And these empty hands?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "They're not so empty now," she replied with more liveliness. The exchange restored their spirits. It was timely enough as the end of the walkway that would lead them to the airport was in sight.

"They like you, you know," Tom offered unexpectedly.

Following his meaning, Cassandra only grinned up at him. As they crossed the stoop that entered the building at large she couldn't repress a laugh. "Then it is only because they do not know me well enough!"

A small crowd had gathered in the terminal. Laughing as she had it too Cassie a moment to register the photographers. It seemed that the other three lingering, waiting for Tom and Cass to catch up had caught attention. As far as they were concerned, it was run of the mill. For her part, she was only thankful that she had dressed well enough as to not embarrass herself.

"Don't know you well?" Scarlett inquired pointedly, turning as she had heard Cassandra's voice. "Well, I suppose you have a point."

As Tom and Cass converged on the other three she found herself enveloped with the presence of newfound company. None of them offered more than a cursory look to the photographers and Tom squeezed her hand lightly in reassurance. Finding comfort in it, she endeavored to ignore them as well. It was relatively easy to do when she found that Tom walked on her left and Chris was looking down at her from her right.

In front of them, Scarlett glanced over her shoulder to meet Cass's eyes with a kind smile.

"Tom," the shorter woman began, "get me the address of where I can pick her up tomorrow, alright? We'll get ready together."

Cassandra Moore was left attempting to process that set of words ordered in that way. It seemed that she wasn't the only one as the tall Englishman looked perplexedly at the actress.

"We will?"

"Of course not," Scarlett continued brusquely in response to Tom's question. "We will. You will do.. well. Whatever it is that you do." She reached back behind her, looping her arm in Cassandra's, and tugged the other blonde forward. Despite being several inches shorter, the command her character offered enabled Scarlett to nearly pull Cass off her feet. They strode on a head as Cass bowed to hear her acquaintance's words.

Seconds later, a peal of bright feminine laughter from both women resounded in the three men's ears.

"Scary how well she does that," Jeremy offered after a moment's pause. His eyes were locked on the two of them intently. Still, he seemed incredibly amused by the way that Tom's company had been so adroitly stolen.

"It's Scarlett." Chris delivered this remark with an easy shrug of his shoulders. It explained everything, as far as he was concerned.

"I…" Tom paused, grinning wryly. "I should have expected that."

Chris nodded. "Poor planning, Tom."

"Very," Jeremy emphasized. "Although I can't say I'm complaining. Them? Together? I can't wait to see how that turns out. I can think of a dozen different ways it could."

Chris laughed, shaking his head slightly. Tom's silence was telling and the Australian didn't look in his friend's direction for a moment. "Dangerous road, mate. Never try to predict women. They'll only leave you maddeningly confused in the end."

That, at least, was enough to evoke a laugh from Tom. He straightened, putting his free hand into his pocket as he lengthened his stride to keep the two blonde women in his sights. Beside him, Chris matched his change of pace as Jeremy seemed content to drop behind, apparently with the destination: coffee, in mind.

"Are you?"

At Chris's low inquiry Tom gave him a questioning look.

"Confused. Has she managed it yet? She seems like she could." It was an honest reflection of her character, as far as the tall, blonde man was concerned. "Kind, but I'm not sure straightforward is in her vocabulary."

Tom laughed ruefully. "She's terrible at it, sometimes. Most particularly when she needs help from others.. You like her, then?"

Chris clasped a hand on Tom's shoulder in an affable gesture. "We've decided to be friends," he confided with a childish mien. Even saying it, he couldn't keep the rolling laughter at bay. The Englishman joined in with his characteristic chortle. When both men managed to repress their humor, Chris nodded slightly. "But yes. I do. She's not very forthcoming about herself, but you can't escape the fact that even when she's nervous as hell she's still putting herself in even more uncomfortable situations to give kindnesses to others."

It was a pensive expression that lingered on Tom's face now as he saw Cass's silhouette walking next to Scarlett's. Her walk wasn't the fluid one he had first seen her with all those months ago. It was more stilted, less free.

She, though, was in no way diminished because of it.

"I can only strive to deserve it," he murmured softly as he continued to watch her. "I can't say I ever shall – but all the same, I don't think even if I didn't, I could let her go."


	27. A Deeper Truth

April 11, 2012

Cassandra glanced over to where Scarlett sat in a chair nearly identical to the one she had been seated in nearly an hour ago. Her hair had been under intense scrutiny throughout the entire time. In a turn for the bizarre, both women were wrapped in robes that maintained their modesty. Beneath hers, Cass knew that she wore a strapless bra and underwear – both, black. She wasn't sure she even wanted her mind to wonder if the other woman had the same.

Life had simply gotten too weird, too surreal, to even try to comprehend. A movie premiere, alright – that was something she could cope with. Had coped with. She had been to a black tie affair involving the future King of England. Somehow, though, for her very American self, dealing with Scarlett Johansson in the same dressing room was all the more… daunting.

Of course, sheer proximity had a lot to do with it. Also: the fact that the woman seemed to want to talk to her.

"Cassandra," the other blonde remarked after a moment.

Cassie wished she could have looked up and over. However, two women with pins in their hands looked sufficiently intimidating enough to cow her into obedience and submission. She would make no unheralded movement without explicit permission.

"You can call me Cass," she offered after a moment. "You've already seen the bad and the ugly, I think we're on friendly terms."

From the corner of her eye Cassandra saw the way that the actress started slightly. "I was wondering about that, actually," Scarlett admitted. Her voice wasn't necessarily prying but it was apparent there was an implied question never the less.

The former teacher only laughed ruefully. "And once the wondering starts, it never goes away, does it.. Curiosity is a devilish, dangerous thing I'm afraid." A truer statement she didn't know she could have found. Curiosity led to her fingers' inquisitive exploration of Tom's shoulders that morning, and had led to-

Scarlett's voice cleared. Apparently Cass had been drifting away again. She offered her newfound acquaintance a rueful smile.

"The problem with getting answers for curiosity is that they rarely satiate our appetite for knowledge.. and sometimes I don't know if the questions we get as a result of our answers are any better." She reached over to rub at her forearm distractedly. The nervous gesture was acknowledged not just by Scarlett sitting next to her, but the hairstylists who had largely remained quiet after the original styles had been selected.

"Is it wrong of me to ask?"

Cassie could only sigh. "No," she replied lowly. "No, it isn't wrong."

"What happened?"

It was a clear, concise query. It was a question that Cassandra had wondered time and time again. The answers were ones the woman had despaired over. Blinking her eyes shut, the woman was briefly pleased that they had not progressed to makeup. Certainly something would have been smeared or smudged from the sudden show of moisture.

"I was in an accident," Cass replied quietly after thick moments of silence. "Sitting on a park bench on a Friday night. Silly, isn't it? Should be the safest thing in the world." Her words trailed off as she stared blankly into the mirror. Her reflection was all she saw. It was the first time since that January that she hadn't been besieged with memories at the gesture. "A cigarette butt started a fire. My skirt didn't burn, not so much – it melted into my skin. After third degree burns, skin grafts and physical therapy – here I am."

The hands in her hair moved away. Taking advantage of the freedom Cassandra turned her head to look at Scarlett. The woman was turned slightly towards her so their eyes met.

"And life won't ever be the same."

Thick emotion that she had kept at bay through the fairly clinical telling finally welled up to catch in her throat. Shutting her eyes again, Cass inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. The air was cleansing, but it couldn't take away the tensions. It couldn't take away the emotion.

"It gets better," Scarlett replied quietly after a moment.

It was a surprising sentiment. Cassie's eyes opened quickly, locking back onto the actress's. There was no pity. There was no undue concern. There was only empathy. Only compassion. Her surprise must have been transparent on her features because Scarlett laughed lowly.

"That part of you won't ever be the same. But in time, the hurt, hurts less."

Cass felt her chair get wheeled around slightly as the hairstylists returned to their efforts. The subtle bobby pins seemed to have finally been affixed. The hair ornamentation was now being added.

"I don't know if that part of me exists anymore," she admitted quietly. The soothing clatter of instruments against the table as the women exchanged different products and tools for another. "It's gone. I just – I don't even know. It was a terrible accident, but it's something more than that."

"It's the sense of being violated," Scarlett completed after the younger woman's words were dragged off into silence. "That something so mundane, so safe, isn't so safe. Isn't so secure. That the world you thought was real isn't quite the way you thought it was. I understand, Cass."

Cassandra smiled ruefully. As hair instruments were exchanged for makeup implements, she dutifully obeyed the softly murmured instructions of the women who had dedicated their day to ensuring that she seem to be the best she could.

"That my world exists at all, anymore, is nothing short of a miracle," she managed to rasp out. Women were exchanging combs and pins for makeup brushes and powders. Tilting her chin as she was instructed, Cass subsided into obedience at the efficiency of the makeup artists.

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places." The surprising words from Scarlett trapped Cassandra's attention sharply. From the startled look of her new acquaintance, the actress only laughed.

Abruptly, Cassie grinned. "Ah, but that's bad form – because those that it will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially."

Scarlett joined in the unexpected show of humor with her own husky laugh. It was met with Cass's and for a moment, of all the women in the world the simply might have been the normal ones. The plain ones, having fun and finding joy in something so simple as a new friend, well met.

"So. A teacher?"

"An actress?" Cassandra retorted wryly. "At least neither of us are lawyers. Although I suppose there's an endless number of jokes to crack about that which could be used as effective icebreakers."

Scarlett snorted. It shouldn't have been capable of being a delicate sound, Cass thought, but the woman made it so. Glancing over in the direction of the chair the actress sat, she noted that she, too, was having makeup applied. They were at least on the same schedule for finishing at least. There was something quietly reassuring.

Having been absconded with at what might have been an obscenely early hour in the morning had her internal clock still not been on London's time Cassandra Moore was slightly out of sorts with it all. Luke's weighty warning pressed on the back of her mind. This, she thought, was to be a large premiere. An event. She hadn't seen Tom since before breakfast. Without him? What – no.

No. Anxiety and panic fought to well up but Cassie beat it back. Serenity was a challenge to come by, but it was hard won. Largely, she told herself, she was relatively certain that Scarlett would not have gone through all the effort to spend the morning together had she meant to abandon her so summarily at the first hint of a social agenda.

"People tell me that your profession can tell a lot about a person," Scarlett volunteered after a moment. "Although I've never really known what you could get out of someone going into acting. It isn't as if we're insecure with ourselves."

"No," Cass agreed quietly. "In large part I think it takes a greater measure of courage to be free with yourself, to put yourself out there and express emotion as freely as much of acting requires." For a woman so composed as she, the prospect was beyond daunting. It was nothing of a nightmare.

"I can't think about what teaching would tell about someone, either, though."

"Only that I'm a masochist." Her voice was full of dry humor. "Although I suppose there's an argument that I'm an egoist. Trying to change the world by leaving my mark on the young people I come into contact with… I'm still putting money on masochism, then."

"Well. At least I'm sure you and Tom will have fun discovering that."

Cassandra coughed. Inhaling sharply to try to alleviate that feeling, she found she managed to choke on the air. Turning frantically to Scarlett, her eyes opened widely in shock.

"You-!"

"What? Come on. I can't be the first person to go there."

Cassie receded to sputtering, narrowing her eyes at the actress. "I don't think I like you very much right now."

"It's a common event. Don't worry. You'll get over it. Everyone else does."

And how.

Pleased that the application of makeup had been relatively light, Cassandra was beckoned off the chair. A dress bag was hanging on a screen and as one of the women carefully unzipped it she found a swath of dark green material waiting for her to step into. Dressing might have been a relatively quick affair, had the conversation between she and Scarlett subsided.

Fortunately, or not, it hadn't.

"I hope you didn't take that the wrong way. Tom's a wonderful person." There was an edge in Scarlett's voice that had Cass looking at her in a different light. Something had changed. The levity receded into something else, something more somber.

She nodded. "He is," Cassandra agreed quietly.

"He's phenomenally talented. Honestly, I'm surprised that it's only now that he's starting to come onto the scene." This conversation meant nothing to Cassie, but she nodded slightly in agreement. How could she argue with that? She had seen several of the films herself. "It changes things," Scarlett concluded after a moment's pause.

It was a conversational pitfall that Cass wasn't willing to step into. Steeling her features into calm implacability she only raised a brow in the actress's direction.

Unexpectedly Scarlett only smiled at the gesture. "You're very good at that," she offered. "But it won't keep this conversation from happening."

And it wasn't a conversation she could get away from, Cass thought sourly. In a bra and panties it wasn't as if she'd get terribly far. Moreover she had no idea where, even, she would go. The plans for the premiere were questionable from this point. She was with Scarlett and.. would be for the forseeable future? In light of their current discussion, it was a tremendously daunting prospect.

"Lectures are generally more efficient when there's a point to them." Cassandra replied to Scarlett at last, although her words were edged with a needle sharp hostility that was not quite impolite but, given reason to, could inch that way easily.

Appreciating the bluntness the other woman sighed. "I was married for a while. It was wonderful. He was wonderful. But people wanted into our lives so desperately, because of who we were. Privacy was an illusion. My private phone was hacked and pictures were spread that way. It's a… terrible violation, and I can't escape it because of what I've chosen to step into." Scarlett paused, bright eyes locked on Cass.

The woman wouldn't meet the actress's eyes. Instead, she had bent over to carefully step into the dress and pull it up. The women assisting stopped as it came up over her hips, carefully arranging the material over the left thigh that was even now, so badly scarred. It was an ignominious sight. Smooth, pale skin was so abruptly marred with something so ugly.

At the same time however it created depth to a picture that otherwise might have lacked perspective. Scarlett sighed, turning her own gaze back to the mirror. "You don't. You can walk away from it – from all of it. You're not invested. Not yet. But do you know what you're going into with this? What being with him means.. really means? Your name can be dragged through the mud on a whim. Looking yourself up on the internet will be riddled with ugly things from people who don't know you, and only want to hate you based on what you're wearing, or look like, or who you've been with."

Cass curtailed the words with a sharp gesture of her hand. It was not dismissive, but the sharp swipe through the air effectively stopped the discussion where it was. Her own features had become somber.

"It is," she began carefully in reply, "a daunting prospect." She shut her eyes, inhaling slightly as the fabric of the dress was pulled up over her ribcage before she continued in her reply to Scarlett. "But you need to understand… I'm not afraid of dislike. Unfounded contempt. The things I do, I do not do because I expect accolades. There may not be much of a parallel, but… some of what I've done is hard. It's gritty. I may not understand the magnitude but, Scarlett, he's worth it."

As a woman finished zipping the dress up, Cassandra glanced at herself in the mirror. Somewhere in the duration of her words and pulling up the deep green fabric, Scarlett had quietly padded over. Her own dress was a shorter black ensemble that was much more modern than Cass's floor length affair.

"Good," the actress murmured, coming to stand by Cassandra. "Good. It's good, to hear that from you." She smiled, reaching over to embrace the taller woman. It was a shocking sensation to Cassie, who stiffly lifted her arms around Scarlett's waist in return. "I didn't realize how brave you were. That will make it easier. And the fact that you already know yourself."

Cass huffed a quiet laugh. As they separated, she offered a rueful smile to what, she thought, was turning out to be a newfound friend. "Hardly. I think.. that I never will. But I know what's worth it. And that can help me determine what to try for, can't it?"

Scarlett chuckled. Reaching down to buckle the straps on her thin black shoes, she nodded from where she crouched on the floor. "No better way, I think. Although I tend to find myself in a kitchen."

"In proximity to cutlery. Excellent. No wonder people call you dangerous."

There was no rejoinder for that, as the two women departed the room. What had entered, hours before, was worlds different than what they were now. Gone were Cass's jeans and her braided hair. The t-shirt and comfortable underwear had been discarded as well. In its place, the dark green strapless dress whispered with every step she took – and those steps came relatively easily in the three inch slingbacks that only occasionally peeped out from under the floor length hem.

It was a startling change but one that Cassandra found didn't shock her any longer. She laughed slightly, seeing her reflection beside Scarlett's. That aspect of it could still stun her.

"I'm fairly certain I have students who would murder me if they knew what I was up to." She offered up the comment for no particular reason. "Although frankly I'm still not sure I believe this."

As they left the building that the salon had worked out of, Scarlett laughed at her side. A low slung black car was waiting for them at the curbside. For once, Cass thought, she was not the one who was scooting across the seat. Ducking in after the shorter woman, she looked up as she spoke.

"Oh, believe it," the actress replied wryly. Her low voice was thick with humor. "The mystery is lost pretty quickly anyway. You'll meet more of the boys. And believe me, they are boys."

Cassandra adopted a faux concerned look. "Are we talking thirteen year old boys or eighteen. Because, in my experience, there's a pretty significant difference. Or did they manage to graduate to frat boy? Less exposure to those, but still recently in my memory."

Scarlett snorted. "All of the above, and at any given moment. Feel free to step on them. They're used to it."

Cass tilted her head to the side. "I'm pretty sure there's several more inches to me that might make it a little bit of a different excuse."

"Whatever. They'll do something to deserve it. Believe me."

Reassuring, Cass thought after a moment's pause. Tremendously reassuring. Conveying that sentiment to her friend with just a look she found that Scarlett only laughed.

"I'm pretty sure you'll be fine-" stellar vote of confidence, Cass thought sourly "-considering you've spent time with Tom. They're all instigators but oh god, he's one of the worst. They regress into their little five year old selves. You enjoy his company. You'll be fine."

That… was actually a relatively indisputable point. Mulling over that for a brief point, the blonde woman shrugged and let it be. "Speaking of," she trailed off, taking advantage of the conversational opener that had been given. "Tom. Everyone else. Us. I'm feeling like a parachute chucked out of a plane over an ocean, here. What am I even meant to be doing?"

"Stand there and look pretty," Scarlett replied drily. "No. Not really. I don't really know what Tom's plans for any of this are, but we'll all arrive at around the same time. You can follow me until you see him. Or you can just end up with whomever you'd like. One way or another we're all headed in the same direction and you'll catch up with Tom sooner or later."

"I feel like a cheap prostitute," Cass pointed out sardonically. "Passed around from one person to the next? Very flattering. Well done." The snicker that accompanied her words betrayed her lack of ire at the situation. Relieved, Scarlett joined in.

"Use your instincts. No offense but I don't see you as some loose cannon that I should worry about."

Flattering, but still concerning. Smile. Walk prettily. And avoid the little people with the microphones. However – "if I get caught by anything, I'm just going to go ahead and say I came with you." It was a pragmatic point. "Easier to keep straight, at any rate."

Scarlett smiled. "What? It's hardly a surprise. We are friends, after all."

Friends. It had a nice ring to it.

Friends, however, were decidedly less appealing when it seemed that reporters and photographers were inclined to swarm them. It was the thought that crossed Cassandra Moore's mind some minutes later as they meandered down the red carpet. Velveteen ropes directed the flow of individuals walking the carpet, and several barricades kept people from pressing too closely to the walkway other than in specific points.

Strategically letting the famous actress get several feet ahead of her, Cass managed a weak smile as her chin tilted up. Lingering in the center of the carpet to avoid getting tugged to either side should someone strain to catch her attention, the tall woman carefully picked her way through the perilous trek.

"Cassie." The low, accented voice was immediately distinguishable. Pivoting on her good leg, the woman looked up and offered the tall Australian a smile. "I was hoping I'd catch you."

Leaning lightly into the hug that Chris offered her, Cass laughed ruefully. "I'm willing to be hooked." She paused, glancing up at him again to take his measure. "Even better, by someone I can actually hide behind. Scarlett is.. indomitable, I'll give her that – but I can't exactly cower behind a personality."

Not that she couldn't be given an A for effort anyway.

Chris laughed at that. "Have you seen Tom? I thought he'd be with you. You're somewhat easier to spot."

"So much for males and flashy feathers," Cass replied theatrically. "Just call me a peacock and have done with it." Letting her eyes drift over the crowd of people, she swallowed back creep of anxiety that rose in the back of her throat. "Unfortunately, I have no clue where Tom is. I've been in isola-er, I'm sorry, makeup, with Scarlett all morning."

He chuckled and it seemed that they had mutually decided to walk down the carpet at a slow, shambling pace. Keeping stride with him was something of an exercise in finesse but relatively simple. Moreover, Cass thought, she could just stay at his shoulder and let at least once side of the cameras be blocked by Chris's rather imposing figure.

"You look lovely, Cass – and I'm thinking that Tom will show up soon enough, at any rate. You're hard to miss."

"Tall? Blonde? Accessorizing this carpet like it's Christmas?" She grinned, sinking her teeth into her lower lip to prevent herself from actually laughing. "Don't answer that, by the way."

Chris laughed again as he looked over the crowd of people.

As he did so, Cass was fairly certain that, if nothing else, the two of them together were the tallest and the blondest couple that could be seen. What else could be seen, however – "..did you all plan to match?"

The Australian looked down at her, baffled by the random comment.

"Jeremy. Jeremy Renner. He's wearing grey, too. I thought that was what Tom was planning on? Which begs the question, did you plan this?"

Suddenly understanding what she was asking Chris Hemsworth tilted his head back and a larger laugh rolled over her immediate proximity. "Please," he scoffed. "They stole my idea. As, obviously, it had to be mine to start."

"Certainly," Cass agreed relatively easily, eyes gleaming with good humor. Gone were the concerns about the photographers and the microphones. It was, she found, staggeringly easy to forget herself when it came to this man's company. Maybe it was simply easy to laugh with him. He made her want to forget the weight of tragedy, to offer the best she could of herself. Dangerous, dangerous company.

"I'm not sure I like the implications of how quickly you throw me over."

The dry, light masculine voice from behind her shoulder was temporarily stunning to Cassandra. However, the familiarity of it melted the remainder of her tension. While she might have stopped, turned and smiled at Tom, at her side Chris wheeled around to embrace his friend.

Taking half a step back to avoid getting tangled up in the length of long limbs, Cass observed them both with a grin. There was something endearingly boyish about it.. although perhaps Scarlett had the right of it.

Five year old boys. Who would have thought?  
"No greetings from the turncoat?"

Cassie grinned unrepentantly at him. "You threw me over first. You knew what I was getting into with Scarlett and you didn't warn me." It was a mock accusation, but referring to the smaller blonde woman's overwhelming sense of presence and wit, it seemed that both men immediately understood what she alluded to.

Chris laughed. "Now you've done it," he whispered in mock sympathy to his friend, elbowing Tom before stepping further down the carpet.

"So it seems I have," Tom agreed, his eyes darkening slightly as he finally was able to take in Cassandra, in all her glory. The asymmetrical lacework across the bodice of the dark green dress only managed to elongate her torso, and made her lengthy figure even moreso. It was an elegant picture, but more youthful than anything she had worn before.

He reached out to take her hand in his, gently pulling her in close. "You're breathtakingly lovely today, Cass."

She smiled up at him, wrapping an arm around his waist as she drew up to press a light kiss to his cheek. It was, Cassandra thought, the best way to greet him intimately without providing a spectacle. His arms locked around the small of her back as she rose. However, for the briefest seconds as she went to step away the grasp tightened, a mute expression of the fact that he had no desire to let go.

"Thanks," she replied shyly. "I'm glad to see you. I was wondering if I'd have to wait until we got inside to catch up with you."

As they turned in silent agreement to follow the tall Australian down the red carpet into the theater, Tom's right hand came to rest quietly at the small of her back. Tucked against his side, Cassie found that she was able to largely continue down the walkway while keeping his body between her and the cameras.

It was not entirely successful. At a point they both stopped and he wrapped the entire length of his arm around her waist while he beamed. Following his lead, Cassandra offered a gracious smile to the gallery of cameras at large. Thusly slowing their progress, with opportunities for photographs cropping up more and more often, Tom leaned down for a moment.

"Have you seen anyone else?"

Cass laughed lightly, lips still curved into a coy expression. "Scarlett, obviously. She would have stayed with me but even I am not that brave."

Tom chortled, letting his cheek rest gently against the top of her head while they remained stationary. "I find no flaw there."

"Chris found me shortly after," she admitted. "And then you. I've seen Jeremy but I haven't had the opportunity to speak with him. You all look very dashing, though. Matching grey? That's very open minded of you."

His arm around her waist squeezed in teasing reprimand. "Wicked woman." She giggled brightly, features animated. "I suppose I do owe you a thing or two for that..and Renner, as well. Bless Hemsworth, he's a traitor at times."

Cassandra didn't even attempt to curtail her laugh as she found the arm at her back quietly urging them on again. "I'm relatively certain that Scarlett's prep team are geniuses. Therefore, you can't hold men accountable for being susceptible to a pretty face."

"Lovely indeed," Tom agreed, "but I'm more concerned about what your contriving mind can concoct unless I keep it busy."

Cass mused over that for a moment. Fair point. She had shown a rather decided inclination for acidic commentary and peculiar conversation when left to her own devices. "You know you like it," she replied at last. It was a weak retort all things considered but as Tom took a moment to turn away from the cameras and press a kiss to the corner of her lips, she found that it had been worth it.

"You know I do," he murmured lowly, humor dropping away to something more genuine.

With that in mind, Cassandra rather thought that she could have endured the rest of the red carpet on her own and in good spirits. Her cheer was guaranteed by the promise that she didn't have to navigate it at her own. The warm brand of Tom's palm at the small of her back was enchantingly reassuring.

New friends were delightful but.. all the same, there was something about being in Tom's company that bolstered her in a way she found no one else could. Even as her breath hitched at the thought and her heart skipped a beat, Cass demurred answering something the man asked her, eyes shyly sliding away.

There were no words for it. Not now.

Not yet.


	28. Inspired by Curiosity

April 11, 2012

It was a relief to get out of cramped quarters, Cassandra thought. While theaters weren't necessarily uncomfortable, vying for leg space among those taller than she had been a novel experience. It was one that she wishfully wouldn't have to repeat anytime in the near future. Of course, such as luck was it was replicated in the trip over from the theater to the club hosting the after party.

Such was her luck, Cass thought wryly. More and more she was beginning to see the appeal of Scarlett's shorter dress. The hem was no hazard among the milling crowd. For her part, she was beyond pleased to have found herself a relatively comfortable chair in the corner of the area that had tables scattered throughout. Tom pulled a seat up in front of her and, for the first time since the entire hectic day began, they enjoyed a moment of peace to themselves.

Peace being relative, of course. Her bones vibrated with the low bass of the music that thrummed steadily. The furor of conversation was a dull roar in her ears. Leaning forward and at the edge of her chair, it was only when Tom brought himself to mirror her that she could hear his voice.

"It's a very weird sensation to be in a theatre and know that everyone is watching you," he admitted with a grin. Cass reached out to rest her hand on the top of his leg, grinning.

She knew he wouldn't be able to hear her laugh, so she let her smile relay the amusement. "I think you'll find it was well received," she offered after a moment.

Tom inched his chair more closely to hers. His knees spread so his legs were bookending hers – she, who had carefully rested her left thigh over her right. Startled by the change she found that it was easier to maintain her balance if she rested both of her hands on each of his legs. It was an intimate posture, to be so caged by his figure. It was a nice change, from the cameras that had plagued them up to that point.

She let her fingers curl more firmly over his knee. "I've had fun," Cassie admitted after a moment's pause. Had their surroundings permitted it the words would have been quieter, more bashful. "Thank you, Tom. Thank you for bringing me."

His hands settled on her legs in a mirror of her own posture. The warm palms offered a nearly scalding heat through the thin chiffon of her dress. With so much care that told her he still remembered, still took care of that which was still working to heal, his fingers wrapped around the outsides of her thighs. Using that as an anchor, he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"I'm so pleased you came." He laughed, and she felt the heat of his proximity wash over her. "I was petrified that you would choose not to come. I'm glad that I could share this with you."

Cass grinned in response. Conversation along this vein was challenging, she found, due to her tendency to grow softer in her speaking. He had long since mastered the art of pitching his tone to be comprehensible. It was nearly maddening how adroitly he adapted to any given situation, she thought with a laugh. Would that she could be half so flexible.

"I knew you before I knew what you did," Cassandra began distractedly, the tips of his fingers trailing light lines along the underside of her thigh. "And I've seen some of your work since. But I'm constantly reminded of how staggeringly talented you are. You do it, and do it well.. but you love doing it. And I think that's one of the most apparent things about it all. You convey that so breathtakingly, so free with the sentiment. I'm almost jealous."

His right hand came up to cup her cheek. Had it been earlier Cassie might have flinched away and batted at his hand, using the excuse of smudged makeup and cameras as an incredibly valid reason to stay from such gestures. In the dimmer lighting of the club however she found that it was the easiest thing in the world to tilt her head into that touch, to kiss the finger that passed over her lips slowly.

It was a subtle showing of her affections but at times it seemed that subtle was all that Cassandra knew how to do.

"It was a very long time in coming," he murmured, voice inundated with fondness. "But if I've managed to overcome those feelings of inauthenticity then I have faith that you shall as well."

She watched him with a quietly pensive stare. The voices in the room around her, and rooms adjoining this, only grew louder as it seemed more people managed to trickle in. It was a complex thing to try to comprehend. Instead of mulling it over there and then, Cass simply leaned forward to press a soft kiss against his palm.

"There's another alternative," she offered somewhat humorously. "That I'm meant to be an enigma to baffle and fascinate you."

Tom laughed. "Then you're lucky that I'm inspired by curiosity."

Inching his chair back, his hands left her figure as he stood. Glancing around the room it seemed he noted several familiar figures the way his eyes lingered on certain individuals. "If I get a drink would you like something?"

Cassie let herself sit more fully against the back of her chair now that Tom had stepped away. "A Manhattan Sweet would be lovely." The bite of the beverage would distract her from the itchy sensation she felt whenever she registered not just how many people were in her current proximity, but who those people were.

Raising a brow at the drink she named off, the man chuckled. A wide smile set across his features as he shook his head at her ruefully. "Always destined to surprise me."

"An enigma's job," she retorted as she watched him walk away. Under the dimmer lights of the room the fine grey material of his suit nearly gleamed. It was eye catching, and she surmised that others registered the sensation as well. Even as Cass observed him she noted the individuals who stopped him, and the multitude of conversations that he rapidly became engaged in.

Cassandra exhaled slowly and tension ebbed out. She could take the time to sit and relax in some form of privacy, she surmised. It had been something she meant to do on the drive over – but that, of course, hadn't gone so well.

On the other hand someone could argue that it had gone exceedingly well. She blinked at the memory. Tom had been wedged against one door and she was pressed closely against his side. Gingerly aware of the fact that her left thigh was rubbing against his, Cass hadn't been certain there would have been room for the fourth who was looking to duck in, what, with Chris Hemsworth already seated on her right.

The sensation of being the smallest in any given company was beyond peculiar.

It was one she had no desire to repeat, if it meant getting jammed in the middle of large, leggy men.

"You could always just hop on over here," Tom had invited laughingly.

Giving him an incredulous stare, a teasing smile flickered over her features. She gave him a once over, before looking to Chris Hemsworth on her right. "No offense, but if I'm doing something like that purely for creature comfort, your lap is not the one that wins. You're much too slender."

Tom's chuckle was familiar. Chris Hemsworth's chortle was equally recognizable. To his right, however, an unfamiliar laugh resounded through the back of the luxurious car. Leaning forward and glancing over, Cass smiled wryly at the man.

"Awkward introduction, but not the worst I've ever made. I promise I'm not a crazy person."

Chris Evans laughed again, shaking his head. "Understood. I'd shake your hand or something but I'm afraid of where that hand would end up."

Cass giggled. "Not in my lap, so definitely not my concern."

At the insinuation, Chris Hemsworth nudged her abruptly in retaliation. Were it not for Tom's quick arm she might have spilled over into his lap in earnest. Content to settle against the englishman's side, Cassie let her head rest slightly on his shoulder. The hum of masculine voices was comfortingly distracting, though not necessarily conducive to relaxation.

"Cass, this is Chris. Chris, this is Cass."

"Very helpful, Tom," she quipped, blinking at the two Chrises to her right. "So what – do I just call you thing one and thing two?"

"Last names work," Chris Evans offered helpfully.

"Excellent – and, it's very nice to meet you."

Edging her feet carefully out of the line of fire as Chris Hemsworth stretched out his legs slightly Cassandra found herself plastered even more closely to Tom's side. Her inching attempts to give the large Australian more space didn't go unnoticed as he smiled gratefully down at the woman. She ducked her head shyly in response, and looked down at her hands, which she had crossed defensively in her lap.

Tom reached over to rest one of his over both of them carefully. It was a soothingly reassuring touch and one that eased some of the tension in small increments.

"Cassandra delighted me by being gracious enough to permit me to cart her all the way here," the Englishman offered wryly at an inquiring glance from the American man in the car. She rolled her eyes slightly.

"That's not confusing at all," Cassie muttered lowly, with a laugh.

"I was going to say," Chris Evans commented, trailing off. "You… don't sound English. And I don't mean to stereotype, but-"

"Just stop there," Chris Hemsworth advised with a laugh. "If you dig any deeper even if she doesn't bury you in the hole I will." The dry retort earned laughter from the other three in the car.

For her part, Cass felt an unexpected swell of fondness for the large blonde man. Whether he had done so out of jest with a friend or out of an attempt to keep her comfortable, she couldn't determine. The fact that he had managed to smooth it over though, was something she appreciated.

"Not an actress," Cassie remarked after a moment. "You don't want to hear my attempt at accents. They're atrocious. I won't even try. Far too sober and all." The quip was met with the masculine amusement that she had endeavored to gain with the sardonic humor. "And given that I'm an even worse liar: I taught for a few years, though I'm actually continuing my own education at the moment. It lets me live where I'd like, and I happen to prefer London at the moment."

It was a succinct way to address the complexities of.. well. Whatever had happened to set it up in such a way that she was with Tom Hiddleston at another red carpet event. Mystery sufficiently abated, Cass noted with satisfaction that the three men were content to converse menial things that engaged all of them. Barring the occasional quip, she kept fairly quiet.

Worth noting, though, was the fact that as she carefully navigated her exit from the car minutes later, Chris Evans had offered her a kind one armed hug. Much less restrained, the other Chris bent down to envelop her fully before disappearing into the building.

Struggling to comprehend the overt affection, Cass blinked after them for long seconds. Behind her Tom only laughed. "They like you." The sentiment from the other day was reiterated fondly.

"That's.. nice?"

Still processing it, she had been content to follow Tom's direction into the building, finding herself a seat in a quiet corner when she was able. It was in that seat now that she found herself left to her own devices. The solitude, even among the people, was a shocking relief and she inhaled again, smiling slightly. It had been a very, very weird day.


	29. Thoroughly Well Adjusted

April 11, 2012

With her hands folded quietly in her lap and her shoulders bare against the interior lighting, Cassandra Moore had no ability to comprehend the picture she presented. In the midst of the occasional mayhem and general noise of the function she had managed to create the image of elegant serenity. It was, of course, entirely contrived but those watching her couldn't know that.

"And how long does that make?" Jeremy Renner looked for a clock as he asked the question. It was impossible not to see where Tom had been held up by a producer intent on talking up the actor.

Chris Hemsworth looked down at him with a laugh. "Don't start counting. It will only get you into trouble."

"My kind of trouble is a blonde, tall drink of water," Jeremy replied drily. After nearly an hour of circulating it seemed that several of the actors had congregated among friends. It found Chris Hemsworth and Jeremy Renner in company with one another, and Robert Downy Jr. alongside.

"I don't know what we're talking about. Why don't I know what we're talking about? Something's wrong with this, here," Robert remarked after a moment. His hands rested lightly in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels, waiting for someone to explain.

"It's a girl," Jeremy began.

"-It always is," Robert interjected, characteristic half grin, half smirk flashing across his features.

"Her name is Cassandra," Chris Hemsworth volunteered. "Blonde. Green dress. Sitting on the back wall of the other room."

With the descriptors, the older man effortlessly picked out the woman. "And why are we talking about her?"

"She came with Tom." This answer came from an entirely new voice. Chris Evans converged on the group of men with an easy grin for the other actors. "She seems fun," he offered after a moment's pause.

The remark elicited a brief look of skepticism from Jeremy. "Wait. When did you meet her?"

"On the way here," Evans replied with a shrug. "Tom and Chris had a car lined up. I needed a ride. When Chris mentioned that there was a woman, I thought she'd be.. Well. Anyway."

"Oh, no," Jeremy coaxed. "Continue that. I'm interested to hear what you thought she'd be." He grinned lopsidedly, features animated at the exchange.

Wise enough not to continue that train of conversation, Chris Evans looked at Chris Hemsworth and Jeremy. "When did you meet her?"

"I," Jeremy began, "met her in a wonderful dream filled with blonde women and-"

Chris Hemsworth shoved him slightly with a laugh. "They were on the same flight as we were out of New York – Jeremy, Scarlett and I. She came to the premiere with Scarlett, actually."

All of the men paused at that. Using the collective knowledge of the blonde actress's force of will, however, none of them seemed terribly surprised. Jeremy was the most expressive, who just shook his head and laughed before his eyes brightened.

"So. She didn't come with Tom?"

"This is boring," Robert interjected. "I don't know her. Why don't I know her? This should be fixed. I can't have an opinion without knowing her."

Rolling his eyes at the way the conversation was going, Chris Evans shook his head slightly. "And on that note: there are people I'm meant to talk to. Don't terrify her. She's fun."

Chris Hemsworth laughed at the timeliness. "I suppose that's a rather pointed reminder that we should be doing something too." He looked at the other men who met his gaze with blank looks. Expectations be damned. Finishing his drink, the Australian put his glass on the bar before straightening.

"I'm going to go see what's keeping Tom. Try not to muck anything up, will you?"

Robert waved jauntily, grin widening. "Oh, don't worry. We will. Need to keep you in fighting form for fixing things, after all! Baby on the way and all that. Being in tip top shape is necessary!"

Hardly the reassurance that he might have gotten otherwise. Still, Chris didn't seem overly concerned about the hijinks that his friends could possibly get into. In retrospect, it seemed admittedly shortsighted.

"So!" On that exclamation, Robert turned back to Jeremy. "What do you know? She's seem to have acquired staunch champions. Interesting. Very interesting."

From behind them both the quietest member of their conversational group laughed a little uneasily. Shaking his glass so that the ice clinked against the sides, Mark Ruffalo looked up at both men. "Why are we talking about this, again?"

"Because it's interesting!" Robert paused, looking intently at Jeremy. "Hopefully interesting?"

Jeremy Renner shrugged. "High school teacher. History. Continuing education. And apparently Scarlett's new best friend if she managed to convince her to jilt Tom's company for this."

"What is she? Are they a thing? I haven't heard about a thing."

"Thing is debatable," Jeremy replied. "No titles, no introductions. Just names."

"Soo," Robert dragged out, letting his eyes turn back to the unsuspecting form of the woman. She hadn't moved. The emerald chiffon of her dress was an effervescent silhouette of her figure, creating the illusion of elegant composure. "She's just a thing that's probably sleeping with him."  
"Debatable," Jeremy offered in return. "When I got on the plane with Scarlett she wasn't even sitting next to him. He and Chris were talking."

"Because that's a measure of something accurate." Mark finally joined in, leaning his elbows onto the bar. "Isn't it possible that she's just, maybe a nice person?"

Silence reigned between the three men for a moment. It seemed that they were considering the option for a moment, although it was apparent that the conversation itself had yet to taper off.

"Possible," Robert declared after the pause. "It requires confirmation. Or refutation. Either or. Shall we?"

Mark lifted his glass to wave them both on, as it was apparent that Jeremy was inclined to join the precocious man on his quest to ferret out knowledge of what was occurring among his colleagues. Watching them both walk away, he only shook his head and took another long drink.

Who Mark felt sorrier for, he couldn't pin. Tom? Or the woman? If she was capable of making such a ruckus so quickly, she had to be interesting in the very least. Mulling over that thought, he looked up only at the flash of a bright blonde head that stopped next to him. Smiling warmly at the actress, he stood to embrace her.

"Hello, Scarlett," he intoned.

"Mark," she replied with equal fondness. "Where is everyone? I could have sworn they were all just here."

He groaned, picking up his drink again. "The Chrises have.. gone to spread themselves out. Jeremy and Robert are going to interrogate the woman that Tom came with. Or didn't. There was a discussion about that."

Blinking, Scarlett turned her eyes to where Tom stood nearby, still caught in a discussion with someone from a production crew. Chris Hemsworth was nowhere to be found, and Evans was otherwise occupied talking with a woman she couldn't place at the moment. There was no convenient intervention.

Leaning against the bar next to him, she just shook her head. "Oh dear."

"Yep," Mark replied, bringing his glass to his lips. Oh dear, indeed.

Although oh dear didn't necessarily convey the enormity of Cassandra's thoughts when she looked up. A gleam of grey out of her peripheral vision instilled the temporary hope that Tom had returned. It wasn't that she was trying to maintain a rigidly antisocial status. It was more to the point, though, when the few people she could identify were also the stars of the evening, interacting with anyone became challenging.

Straightening and looking over Cass repressed the flicker of disappointment when it became apparent that it wasn't the Englishman coming back. It was, however, another relatively familiar face – and one she could place, but claimed no knowledge of intimately.

Coming to her feet to refrain from having to look up, Cassie took half a step forward into the open space of the room. Giving herself that landscape she paused as Jeremy stopped in front of her. He reached out to offer her a warm one arm'd hug that she awkwardly reciprocated. Gingerly extricating herself, she offered him a far more gracious smile.

"Hello again," she chorused easily, features sliding into a polite arrangement of sociability.

Jeremy paused, grinning crookedly at her. "Good to see you tonight – you look great. May I introduce you to Robert? Rob, this is Cass."

Offering the incredibly identifiable man a polite greeting, she was surprised when her hand was enveloped with his and he hugged her lightly. It was a briefer touch than the one moments before with Jeremy although she supposed part of it was that by the time it was over she was only beginning to process what the man had done.

She blinked. "It's nice to meet you?"

Robert laughed, flashing her a quick smile. "That sounds like a question."

There were ways to reply to that, Cassie thought – there were polite ones that demurred and would insist that it was a pleasure to meet him. Then there were the more acidic replies that held a little more bite. Looking at him consideringly, the woman threw in her chips to bet on the snark. It felt less deceitful, anyway.

"It is," she replied lightly. "I'm always leery of handsome, intelligent, talented men. I've found that they generally have the expectation that the world is theirs to command. Am I wrong?"

"Maybe about the handsome bit," Jeremy interjected with a grin.

Rob flashed him a quelling look before he laughed. It had Jeremy laughing as well, so Cass concluded that her retort hadn't been too far out of line, at least.

"And what do you do when you come across these handsome, intelligent, talented men, my dear?"

Cassandra blinked. That hadn't been the turn around that she had been expecting. She smiled after a moment, shrugging ruefully. "I'd like t wouo say that I run, but apparently I'm not quite as adept at fleeing such things as I would have liked to believe. Otherwise I have no way of explaining how I'm here."

"You cut me down to size and then yourself in the next breath. Fascinating," Robert quipped lightly.

"That sounds like a very low standard of intrigue," Cassandra replied after a moment's pause.

The older actor stared at her for a very long moment, as if he were baffled by some concept she presented. "Well. Can't say you're wrong, there. You should meet my wife. Susan. She chose not to come to this little shebang but next time. It'd be fun."

"What is it with men introducing women to their wives?" Wonderment was thick in her voice as Cassie recalled Chris saying something incredibly similar only a day earlier. Jeremy chuckled at her side.

"Don't worry. I don't have a wife I want to introduce you to."

"No, only his mother," Rob added quickly.

Watching the quick exchange occur, Cassandra just shook her head. At her sides her curled hands were disguised by the diaphanous drape of material from her dress. Still, she found that the silhouette prevented her from fidgeting with it. The fabric would twitch and reveal her own nervous habit. Cass nibbled on the inside of her lower lip instead.

"So, what do you say? Have a drink, have some fun. Meet Mamma Renner," Robert jested in an attempt to bring the quiet blonde back into the conversation. She only looked at him, raising a brow in a sardonic arch.

"Take that as a no," Rob informed Renner.

"Drop the mother, keep with the drinks and the fun," Jeremy revised, boyish grin overtaking his features.

Scrambling for a retort, Cassandra gave them both a long stare. "I'm fairly certain your work wife wouldn't approve," she replied after a moment.

"Work wife?" Rob gave her a strange look.

"Work wife. Scarlett. I'm pretty sure she's collecting a harem at this point. She would not approve of poaching. And after that movie? Money is definitely on her winning some form of scrap between us."

Robert snickered. "Scarlett doing a thigh choke on her.. The mind is awash with wonders."

Jeremy seemed to be on par with that thought process as he fell silent for a moment. Swallowing uncomfortably, the woman fought to repress her unsettled expression. Cass was relatively certain where their minds had gone, she didn't want to follow. Edging to the side a step, she fluttered her fingers at them both before delivering a charming smile.

"It was nice seeing you again, Jeremy – and Robert, it was lovely to meet you. I'm going to go find a drink." Or Tom. Or a drink. Or a corner. Or a window to jump out of. All of them worked equally well at this point.

Cutting an elegant escape, Robert watched her go for a moment. It was only when Scarlett approached them after Cass had vanished from sight completely that both men switched their attention to their blonde colleague.

"You do realize that she's nearly twenty years younger than you, Renner?"

Jeremy choked, startled by the information. "What?!"

She grinned smugly. Rob seemed unsurprised by the revelation and snickered at the other actor's response. "Cradle robber."

"Tell me she's your age," Jeremy nearly begged, wheezing as he seemed to have managed to choke on air.

"Younger," Scarlett informed him loftily, passing him a drink. "She's twenty four."

"Jesus Christ," Jeremy muttered, taking a long swallow. "Now I feel like an ass."

"That's restricted to when you feel like you're taking advantage of the innocent youth?" Rob's jibe went unreplied to, although Scarlett smirked in response.

The actress had provided a convenient distraction for Cassandra, not that she had realized it. While much of the room's attention seemed to naturally follow Scarlett, the taller blonde had made her way carefully around the perimeter of the room. Entering into a more populated section, she mulled her options. Electing to take her chances, and let herself be disguised by the sheer numbers, Cassie ended up standing tucked against a wall again.

This time there was no chair to be seated in, no relative quiet from being some distance removed from the hub of the party. Watching the people around her, though, she was pleased to see that no one even batted an eye in recognition. It was while she had rotated her head to the far left, watching the door and people who came in that a warm hand rested on her right shoulder.

Jumping at the touch her eyes wheeled about. The tension that had gathered in an instant abated somewhat as she saw Chris Hemsworth standing there.

"You looked lost," he offered after a moment when all she did was stare up at him.

Cass might have laughed bitterly at that. It would have been too telling, though. For all his kindnesses she had no interest in revealing herself so openly to someone she didn't know so very well. Offering him a rueful smile instead, the woman shrugged.

"Overwhelmed. Though I guess lost works, too."

The man settled himself firmly in front of her, although not close enough to crowd. "Do you mind company?"

She couldn't recall a time when she had been more grateful to someone else's overture of kindness. He hadn't presented it in something that she had to ask for. Perhaps it was a small thing, but as far as Cassie was concerned it kept a modicum of her pride in place. Offering him a wry smile, the American woman shrugged lightly.

"Not in the least." She paused, tilting her head as she observed him a moment longer. "Moreover you make an effective privacy screen. So I get good company and to hide all in one. I don't see how this isn't going to end well for me."

Startled by her frank admission, Chris couldn't repress the chuckle of appreciation for her forthrightness. It had been a surprise, but a charming one none the less. He turned slightly so his broad figure was at an angle. No longer facing her, no one would suspect that he was speaking to someone plastered up against the wall.

"Better?"

"Much more clever at letting me go unnoticed," Cassie agreed easily. "Thanks, by the way."

The other man was quiet for a moment, rolling his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his elegant dress pants, making an incongruous sight to behold. Generally that sort of body language was accompanied with foot scuffing and a sheepish "Ms. Moore, I'm really sorry but-" story that no teacher in their right mind would ever believe.

To see a man well exceeding six foot demonstrate the same behavior was startling and more than a little amusing.

"Consider it payback," Chris replied once he seemed to identify the words he wanted. "I didn't think Rob and Jeremy would do quite that."

"Yes." She acknowledged his recognition quickly. "They did come over with bells on." More than that. While both men had been nothing but charming, there was an edge to their conversation that had unsettled Cassandra. It was easier to beat a well timed retreat than try to navigate the ever choppier waters that they were creating.

"You managed it well, though. I heard Scarlett mention something about cradle robbing on my way by. What was that about?"

Cass froze a moment. Rapidly she attempted to process the information that she knew about the actors. While it was minimal at best, she still had accrued a decent set of facts that could be applicably useful.

"Er," she began awkwardly, laughing sheepishly. "The fact that I'm nearly twenty years younger than him, probably." She rushed through the last statement, as if reluctant to admit to the fact.

Instead of seeming shocked, Chris only laughed. The low, effortless sound eased her frazzled nerves even further. "Don't look at me," he professed after a moment, grin cutting lines into his features. "My wife is – and don't tell her I told you this, she'll maul me if she knows – a few years older than I am. I understand being an old soul."

She found that she could breathe again. The vice around her lungs eased slightly at the easy way of relating that the man offered her. There was no judgment, nor surprise. Only effortless acceptance.

"Congratulations, by the way," Cass ventured carefully. "I know I've never met her, and only just, you.. but Tom talks of you often. You must be thrilled that the baby is nearly due.. Next month, right?"

The grin on Chris's face shifted into something else entirely. If she had to put a name on it, Cassie might have called it bliss. "Yes," he agreed wistfully. "I never could have thought that I'd have so much fill my life."

She found that she could relate to that sentiment, Cass thought unexpectedly.

It was something that she didn't have time to process. While she had no clear line of sight to the room at large from the way that Chris had positioned himself she certainly could still hear. Tom's voice rolled into the air over his shoulder. Looking up to face him, the Australian made to smile warmly in greetings but noted his friend's tense bearing.

"Chris, have you seen Cass? I got held up. Jeremy was commenting about it, and now I can't seem to find either of them." The clipped words came out in as much a rush as the man was capable of doing.

Registering Tom's rather strained composure Chris didn't even bother to reply. He shifted a step to the side, revealing the tall blonde figure dressed in a vibrant green behind him. A tall blonde figure with her lips pressed into a firm line that was notably lacking in amusement, more significantly.

Tom paused. "I've made an ass of myself."

"You did," Chris agreed when it seemed that Cassandra wasn't even going to try to reply. "Although I think it was your turn anyway, so it works out."

Reaching over, he carefully embraced Cassandra's stiff figure. Hugging her lightly Chris seemed inclined to leave it at that but then he paused. With his lips so close to her ear, it was possible for him to speak words that his friend couldn't overhear.

"Forgive him, if you're able," he suggested lowly. "We all have demons that goad us into idiotic things sometimes." Straightening without waiting for a reply, the man nodded a farewell to Tom before tactfully leaving the two of them in relative isolation.

Cassandra watched him with an unrelentingly steady gaze. She gave no indication of her feelings or her response behind the mask of impassivity that she had constructed even before she had seen him.

Tom sighed, running a hand over his features roughly. His eyes looked slightly bleary and in a moment, she could identify the fatigue in the tight set of his shoulders. Even though outwardly her resolve seemed unaffected her heart softened.

"I'm sorry Cass," he began at last, knuckles still rubbing up and down his cheek distractedly. "You've been nothing but kind, nothing but patient and I repay you by acting like a cad. Will you let me make it up to you?"

He didn't she noted in surprise, ask for forgiveness. It was a flash of insight into his own understanding – even though she would have said he had it already, they both knew she couldn't let go of the impugnation on her character so easily. Cass inclined her head slightly although she still held herself back stiffly, as if waiting for a second blow to fall.

It was that posture that twisted Tom's heart most firmly. Reaching out, the hand from his face moved to loop gently around her wrist as he pulled her to him. Wrapping her tightly in an embrace he swayed her slightly as he rocked from foot to foot.

"Oh, Cassie," Tom murmured lowly, cheek resting on the top of her head as she couldn't help but relax into his chest. "You'd tell me if you wouldn't want to do something, right? I'm rather afraid I've pulled you into something you don't want to be in."

She inhaled deeply, feeling her breasts press against his chest at the gesture. His arms tightened around her waist in reply. Cass let her hands lift up to place them lightly on the sides of his hips, forehead inclining to rest against his collarbone.

"Yes," she replied after the seconds dragged by. "I would. You might not have occasion to see it yet, but I can be unforgivably stubborn when I feel strongly about something." Admitting that character flaw didn't pain her in the least. Instead, there was something wry about her tone, the way that it seemed to fail to address the issue at hand.

Tom seemed to feel the same way. He laughed, although it was halfhearted. "Hopefully not to be applied to a grudge in my direction," he murmured more quietly.

His lips brushed gently over her face. They pressed a soft kiss on her brow, her cheek, and then the corner of her lips. Coaxing her to stand straighter, he leaned down as her chin lifted, locking his lips to her. What had started out as a gentle sensation rapidly progressed to a more physical sense. The kiss was nearly bruising although it was not harsh. It evoked feeling and passion in a way that Cassie couldn't remember ever having felt. All of the intensity of her being was centered on that one feeling, that one place where they joined.

She softened his lips against his lead, feeling the clever brush of his tongue. In conjunction with a hand that rested hotly on the bare back of her shoulders, Cassandra Moore was left breathless. How long it would have gone on for, she couldn't have said. This time, though, it was Tom who straightened and separated them, gaze bright as he looked down at her.

"Dance with me?"

While his one arm remained around her waist, keeping her pulled flush against him, he had offered the other to her, removing it from her shoulders. Lifting her hand, Cass took it gracefully. "Yes," she murmured lowly. "Yes, I will."

It was a reminder of their first meeting, although that carefully scripted dance that might have promised at the emotion that might have been had nothing on what was between them now. Tom's arm stayed locked behind her back although instead of wrapping around it entirely, his hand remained a hot brand behind her hip, steadying her and keeping her close. His other hand enclosed hers, while Cass's free hand rested lightly on his shoulder. It was a far more classical hold than she would have anticipated in a place like this.

If she had thought it would mean that she would be safe from any untoward feelings, though, Cassandra would have been a fool. Looking down at her with such close proximity, his eyes locked onto hers. "I can't tell you enough how lovely you are," he murmured after long seconds passed. "You're simply fantastic. It's amazing. I didn't even pause to think about what you'd have to deal with when I brought you. Despite my thoughtlessness, you've managed on your own. Everyone's smitten with you, Cass."

Her hand curled more firmly around his shoulder at that statement. Looking up at him, she didn't know if she should be pleased or concerned. Was it a good thing?

Reading her leery expression, Tom's smile parted his lips, teeth gleaming down. What caught her attention most of all, though, were the laugh lines. They were etched into his features at the corner of his eyes, making this intimidating man – intimidatingly accomplished, intimidatingly educated, intimidatingly talented – seem even the slightest bit more accessible.

"It's your gift," he continued quietly, pulling her closer. Tom let go of her hand to let his arm curl around her back, fingers splaying on her bare upper back again. "You make it easy to show off the best self a person has."

She trembled slightly as she felt his fingers trace gently along the edge of her shoulder blade. The heated touch laced sensation through her entire figure. While Cassandra had come to relax in the course of their dancing, his lazy fingers were slowly winding her up again.

"Except for me, I suppose," Tom added after a moment. He chuckled sardonically. "I turn into a jealous tit, instead."

Shaking her head, Cassie quieted the words that might have lambasted his own character. Pressing her lips to the groove on his cheek that was created by his smile was easily done, considering her heels leveled the height disparity between them. It was a chaste kiss, and one she repeated on his jaw a second after.

"You've apologized for that," she pointed out softly. "It's over. Dwelling on it will do no good to either of us, I think. And even if I see you turned into an envious fool, I like the fool." Cass smiled, dragging her lips lightly against his before settling back squarely on the ground. "I like all of you that I've known, Tom. We all make mistakes."

And most mistakes, she thought, could be forgiven. It was how they learned.

Pulling her to him, his arms crushed her against his chest in an unexpectedly emotional gesture from the normally composed man. "You're a wonder," he murmured, his lips moving against her cheek from where he had curved protectively around her figure.

Cass couldn't help but laugh. "Not quite," she pointed out pragmatically, letting her hand run down his side comfortably. "I'm simply tremendously well adjusted."

The ironic tone brought a startled laugh from Tom. "That sounds as if you're not giving yourself any of the credit you're due."

She shrugged, feeling his hands shift to keep in place as she did so. "Reality teaches its lessons thoroughly."

"Oh, Cassie," Tom breathed lowly. His fingers stilled against her bare skin, cupping the nape of her neck gently. "Never stop. Never stop fighting. Never stop dreaming. If the sky is the limit, then be it your sky. Your limit."

She reached up to trail a careful finger along his jaw. There was something quietly enigmatic about her expression as she regarded him solemnly for a moment. Letting her hand fall to his shoulder, she curled more closely into his chest, feeling the tips of his fingers trail down her spine. At the point where the dress began, he hooked a finger inside it, continuing his slow foray of exploration.

"I dream." Her voice was soft, roughened with emotion. "I'll never stop."

Abruptly she seemed as frail and vulnerable as a creature could be. Wrapping himself around her and secreting her away to a place where no one could see that part of her was a tempting gesture but he knew, not one they could make quite yet. Instead, he drew his hand away from her back, although the contact only separated long enough for him to reach down to link his fingers through hers.

Bringing their combined digits up, he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. "Maybe one of these nights, you'll tell me what they are," Tom entreated quietly as he brought them away from the security of the wall.

She gave him a startled glance, although she fell into line beside him instinctively. It seemed the easiest thing in the world to meld against his side, the line where Tom ended and Cass began blurring and indistinct. He laughed at the expression she made.

"Some day," he repeated quietly, squeezing her hand lightly.

Some day, Cassie agreed in her head, relaying it by nodding slightly. Some day she might share it with him.. but how could she put words to the things she did not know the name of?

Some day. Not yet. Still, not just yet.


	30. Wash Away the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the smutty version of chapters 33&34 on DFMT, if you follow the chapter numbering on fanfiction.net. Sex ensues. You've been warned.

April 12, 2012

Cassandra had never been more grateful than when the elevator door closed behind them. In a steady diminishing increment her view of the hotel lobby was hindered. Once it had disappeared entirely the blonde stiffly toed off the stilettos she had been wearing for hours.

She crouched down to grab them. The very act of standing again might have been impossible if Tom’s hand didn’t quietly curve under her arm, helping her up. Leaning gratefully into the warm touch the woman only groaned slightly. Holding her shoes in one hand, Cass slipped her other around his waist. The steady rise of the elevator gave them ample time to linger in silence.

After the long day she wasn’t inclined to speech. It seemed that Tom was equally content with the silence.

Watching the illuminated numbers change as the elevator continued to rise Cassie let her mind wander. It had been a long day. A surprisingly long one. Fatigue numbed her to anything else. The fact that she hadn’t eaten in hours was irrelevant. However in direct conflict with her exhaustion was the adrenaline that still threaded through her veins. Her heart still raced more quickly than it should have been.

Perhaps it was the effect of Tom’s arm resting over her shoulder. 

Unlike earlier his hand wasn’t lingering on the bare skin of her back. It had been exceptionally diverting, Cass thought. They danced and while they had, his fingers lightly trailed along the outline of her shoulder blades. Occasionally Tom’s touch would investigate the path down her spine, dipping lightly beneath the fabric. Even when they stepped off the floor and circulated among the throngs of people that only seemed to grow more dense as the hours passed He had kept his hand steady on her bare skin.

It was a maddening sensory awakening. It made her breath catch and her heart race. Letting her head rest more comfortably against his shoulder now, Cassandra only sighed quietly. It was a relief to escape the confines of her shoes.

However, when the elevator doors parted and she went to take a step forward she encountered a challenge her fatigue made only more treacherous. With the additional height of her heels the hem of the dress just lightly brushed the floor. Losing three inches however, made it impossible to walk without stumbling. Tripping forward out of the elevator, Tom’s hand quickly catching under her elbow was the only thing that spared her an ungainly fall. Exhaustion had dulled her reflexes.

“Easy does,” he intoned softly, voice raspy with the only indication of his own fatigue. Had it not been for that Cass might have thought he was just starting out for an event.

His eyes were perpetually bright, lips curved into a gentle smile. “We’ll have none of that now.” She laughed quietly with him, shaking her head slightly.

“I’d love to guarantee that.”

Cassie’s own quiet reply was more subdued than his. Standing beside her Tom couldn’t miss the exhausted droop of her shoulders. “We’ll see to it,” he replied lightly, reaching down to loop an arm around the back of her shoulders. He needed to bend down further to secure his arms gently behind her thighs and scooped her up into his arms. She made a muted squeak in surprise. “There,” Tom commented. “No more perils now.”

The fabric covered her bare feet, although the shoes still dangled in the arm that hung down. Looping her other around the back of his neck Cass discarded any thoughts of quarreling. The walk down the hall wasn’t long but.. it was nice, not to have to bother. Her feet nearly throbbed with pleasure that she was no longer standing on them. 

When he stopped before the door to their room, Cassie had anticipated being set down. Instead, Tom merely grinned at her. “Key is in my left pocket.. can you fish it out?”

“Normally that’s some sort of precursor to a horrible joke or innuendo,” Cassandra informed him flatly. Never the less she settled her shoes into her lap and carefully trailed her fingers down his side to find his pants pocket. Fishing her fingers into it gingerly she met the hard plastic that would let them into the luxurious rooms that had been allocated to the actor for their stay.

Wordlessly Tom stooped down slightly so she could slide the card key into the slot. As the light flashed red, she turned the handle and Tom nudged the door open. She flipped a single light switch as they passed into the room, door swinging shut heavily behind them.

As he carried her further into the rooms, Cassie’s eye caught sight of the digital clock. It was nearing three in the morning. No wonder she was exhausted. With an internal schedule still set for London’s time, it was nearing ten o’clock in the morning at home. She had stayed up all through what was her body’s night.

While she was distracted Tom had carefully bent down to place the woman on the edge of the large bed. She went limp and permitted herself to fall back.

“God,” Cass groaned after a moment. “Knowing that I have to muster the energy to get all of this off and wash everything out of my hair is beyond daunting.”

Tom’s light chuckle met her words. She turned her cheek into the bedspread to watch him shrug off the silvery grey coat, laying it over the arm of one of the chairs. “Such trials.”

“You have no sympathy for my plight,” she informed him tartly. Letting her hands sink into the bed’s surface she managed to push herself to a seated position again. From there it was a matter of rocking forward onto her feet to rise. Keeping the stilettos pressed against her abdomen she stiffly walked over to a table with a mirror. The shoes were discarded on the floor beside the table legs.

Stooping over to see her reflection more squarely in the mirror, Cass carefully began to divest herself of the jewelry she had worn. For the sake of simplicity she had brought her own from London. The familiar clasps only gave her a slight amount of trouble as her uncoordinated fingers unhooked the necklace, placing it carefully on the flat surface. Her dangling earrings followed suit closely after.

Glancing over at Tom again she saw that he was in the process of taking off his tie, having just toed off his shoes. 

Keeping faith that he’d remain diverted by his own necessary undress, the blonde reached down to pull a comfortably large t-shirt from the top of her suitcase on the floor beside her. It would provide some measure of modesty, she thought, and could be pulled on relatively easily once she shucked off the dress. 

For that to work, however, Cassandra would have to manage to get the zipper to cooperate in the first place. The subtle pleating in the bodice made it a difficult task. Clumsily trying to pull the tab, her teeth ground in frustration as interminable seconds ticked by. 

Exhaling shakily, Cass tried to ease the tension that rose with her failure. Letting her right hand drop down to gather some of the skirt’s material in her fingers, she hitched it up to avoid some catastrophe as she walked. Crossing closer to Tom, she didn’t have to speak to gain his attention. The man looked up as she drew near.

Presenting him with her back, Cass smiled ruefully though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Do you mind?”

A warm hand settled on the bare skin of her upper back, holding the top of the dress firmly while his other hand’s fingers found the zipper. Cassie left a hand pressing against the sweetheart neckline. Even when it was undone she would be capable of keeping the dress up. Feeling the fabric loosen as he drew the tab down she inhaled gratefully.

“There you are,” Tom replied softly, letting his fingers trail all the way down her spine to the small of her back which had been exposed. She shivered at his touch. It evoked a quiet chuckle from the man.

Cass felt the light brush of his lips at the nape of her neck as his hands fell away from her torso. Trying to ignore the way her breath hitched, Cassie turned her chin to offer him a smile of silent thanks before she traipsed back over to the table. Determinedly refusing to look over her shoulder she let the dress drop to pool in a heap of emerald fabric around her feet. 

Reaching for the t-shirt, the woman pulled it over her head ignoring the way it caught and tugged at the ornamentation still in her hair. Only once the hem of the shirt settled inches past the juncture of her thighs did she relax. Looking over her shoulder Cassandra found that Tom was engrossed in wrestling with his cufflinks.

The belt and tie had found resting spots in the chair that his coat was draped over. Taking a moment to rest her dress over the back of the chair pushed in against the table she made her way over to the man. Her slender fingers reached out to brush at his wrist. Tom started slightly, too fixed in the task to have noticed her appearance.

Smiling at the endearing response, Cass shook her head. “Let me help.” Delicately she undid first one, and then the other. Pressing the small ornaments into his hand, she offered him a smile.

It seemed that Tom couldn’t resist. He bent down as one arm looped around her waist. “Thank you,” he murmured lowly against her lips before they met. Gently he coaxed hers to part. The intimate touch was not one that Cassandra remained passive for. Her arms crept up his back, sinking into the shock of white fabric that his white shirt provided. Clinging tightly to it, she lifted herself on her toes to meet his lips more firmly. 

As she did so one of Tom’s hands crept up to cradle the back of her head. Cradling it gently it was with a measure of patience that he extricated himself from the kiss. For a moment Cass found that she tried to follow his lips as he straightened. Not even standing stretched to the fullest extent though could she meet them when he stood tall. Sighing, she sank back to stand flat on the ground giving him a look of bemusement.

Tom only threaded his fingers gently through her hair. The myriad of pins and combs that kept it up and twisted elegantly challenged his passage. “Let’s get these out,” he commented after a long pause in which they both breathed raggedly. Gently, he pulled pin after pin out and the tension that had been pulling at her scalp for hours eased.

Groaning throatily in pleasure Cassie let her eyes drift shut for a moment. “That,” she remarked, “is astounding.” 

His fingers rubbed gently against her scalp for a moment. “Don’t make that sound again.” She gave him a somewhat startled look only to find his brightly intent regard fixed on her. “It reminds me of when I’m holding you – kissing you. It makes me want to touch you in ways I oughtn’t. Not now.”

Cassandra flushed a moment, before lifting a hand to join in his methodical removal of pins. She had no reply. Not for that. 

It was just as well that she realized they were done removing the bobby pins and ornamental clips. Cupping the lot of them in a hand she gave him another startled look before she backed away. His fingers reluctantly relaxed from around her head to let her part from him. As she turned to place the hair implements on the table she heard the rustled sounds that indicated his returning to his own undressing. Color rose more hotly on her cheeks as her mind drifted back to the look he had given her.

Biting her lip she stood tensely before the table for a moment. Turning around was a hazardous option considering she didn’t know what she would turn back to. Instead of braving that choice she knelt down on the ground. What had been her carryon bag rested next to her suitcase. Tugging it open she drew a laptop out of it.

Powering up only took a matter of seconds.

Folding her legs to sit cross legged on the floor she pulled the computer into her lap. Hunching over the screen Cass deftly pulled up a folder that contained the bulk of her course work. Even through her exhaustion she could at least manage to muster the ability to try to revise some of her work. A flagged icon at the bottom of her toolbar diverted her attention briefly.

Clicking into her email, Cass tiredly noted that Amanda had sent her another email.

_Heyah Cassie,_

Cass couldn’t help but smile at the familiar address. It warmed something deep inside her. After a day of formalities and strangers there was something achingly wonderful about the way that words from her friend felt.

_How are you? I know you wrote and mentioned you’d be busy so I won’t send detectives on your trail to see where you’re at and why you’ve been so shitty about replying to messages. I’m just going to assume that you’ve been traveling like you’ve said._

_More than that though, I’m also going to assume you’re having a wonderful time. Live the dream, girl. Be a pretty princess for a night. And don’t let the crash landing into reality where you find that there’s dirt under your nails hurt you, m’kay? Also: If you don’t get me pictures I will die of despair. And then come back. And haunt you._

_I will haunt you forever. You don’t want me to do that. You really don’t. Your long, hot showers? You’ll never have on in peace ever again. So! Photographic evidence. I’ll expect this eventually from you. No negotiation of terms._

Cassandra made a face as she tripped over those words. So distracted by reading she failed to hear Tom’s approach behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder, quietly drawing her attention. She looked up at him from where she sat, noting the jeans and the v-neck t-shirt he wore. Definitely more dressed than she, she thought distractedly.

“I’m going to run out for a bit,” he intoned quietly. “Sorry for interrupting you. I just wanted you to know.” She nodded in quiet reply, watching him stride towards the door and pocketing his key as he left. Hearing it click shut behind him, Cass turned her eyes to the broad, comfortable looking expanse of the bed.

Stiffly she pulled herself to her feet and brought the laptop with her. Laying across the foot of the mattress she rested the computer on the comforter before she resumed reading Amanda’s email. 

_Other than hoping that you’re having a great time I wanted to ask if you had heard from Richard recently. He’s playing it pretty quiet here at home but I actually ran into him the other day. Strangest thing. I was at the grocery store, of all places.. it felt contrived. He asked me about you and how your “actor boy” were doing. I’m really glad you’re hundreds of miles away from him, Cass. Keep it that way._

_I didn’t tell him anything – okay, so I did, but it involved something anatomically impossible and very much not polite. He deserved it, so whatever. Don’t worry about things here. No one knows much about what you’ve been up to, so they don’t have stories to tell even if they wanted to gossip. The people who do are keeping quiet about it. We’ve got your back._

_So, jerkface, remember to write back. + picture. Pictures are good. Pictures are excellent. And unavoidable. Consider it back payment for scaring the shit out of all of us for the past few months. Anyway. Hope you’re having fun and I hope you’re happy._

_Love you lots!  
Amanda._

By the time she had finished the email her eyes were drooping. The dim lighting in the hotel room was a lull to sleep that was nearly impossible to ignore. Giving it her best effort, however, Cassandra pulled up the document that contained the paper she was working on. Scrolling to the section that was in need of revision the faint glow of the laptop and the single light in the room that remained on illuminated the industrious young woman for several minutes.

The sound of keyboarding grew less and less frequent, though. Eventually the screen itself went dim, and then black. As the computer put itself to sleep due to inactivity Cassandra herself remained sprawled on her side. Only the single lamp illuminated her figure as she dozed on top of the covers, curled around her computer.

Returning approximately half an hour after he left, the sight of the young woman in repose was the sight that greeted Tom. Setting a bag on a side table he padded over the carpet to carefully lift the laptop off the bed. Shutting it, he put it back beside the bag she had pulled it out of earlier. Having removed it from peril he sat at the foot of the bed, inches from Cassandra.

He let a hand rest on her side. When that wasn’t enough to wake the normally light sleeper, Tom lightly dragged his fingers up to her arm. “Cass,” he intoned quietly. “Cassie.” The steady stimulation was enough to drag her out of sleep, although it was reluctant.

Blinking blearily up at him as her eyes opened, she attempted to process what was going on. Seeing her waken Tom greeted her with a smile. “Sit up, will you?” As she mutely moved to comply, he stepped away from the bed. Grabbing the bag that he had carried back to the room He returned to sit by her side. The indentation that his larger frame made into the mattress made it impossible for Cass to stiffen and remain where she was. Instead she felt herself slide over the comforter before the motion ceased.

Thigh to thigh and side to side, they were pressed closely together. Instead of protesting this Cassie only let her head loll to the side to rest on her shoulder. “Why am I awake?”

Briefly Tom was reminded of the first flight he ever experienced with her. She had chosen sleep in lieu of food then, too. “You need to eat,” he replied quietly, looping his arm around her waist while his other pulled the bag open. “If I know you – and Scarlett – you both likely neglected to feed yourselves earlier. You must be starving.”

Cass snorted. “I’m not hungry.”

“Only because you’re too exhausted to be.”

She blinked. “I fail to see the problem with that. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still not hungry so I could sleep, instead.”

It was a fight she would not win. A large container was pulled out of the bag and rested in Tom’s lap. As he carefully opened it the heady smell of parmesan chicken and basil flooded her senses. Looking down at it in mild interest Cass noted the chicken itself was already cut into bite sized pieces and instead of long tendrils, the pasta itself was a rotini. Everything about it seemed orchestrated for effortless eating.

The motive became apparent as Tom fished a fork out of a bag. Carefully appropriating some of the food onto it, he lifted it to her lips. Even as she parted them to speak again, she found herself with a manageable mouth full of food. Giving him a censuring look as she chewed, it was met by his unrepentant smile. The arm that was still hooked around her waist squeezed gently.

As she chewed and swallowed, he took a bite for himself.

“I can feed myself,” she remarked acidically, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t retort with a mouth full of food. It meant little as he swallowed, turning to rest his cheek on the top of her head for a moment.

“I’ve done a rubbish job of helping you tonight,” Tom admitted quietly. “Let me do this, at least.”

She met his earnest stare for a moment. His eyes were so intent on hers that it was nearly uncomfortable. In lieu of replying, Cass simply leaned forward to slip the fork and its contents into her mouth. Chewing negated the need for words. 

It was in this fashion that the two consumed the meal. It was a far cry from a large amount of food but it certainly would be enough to satiate whatever pangs of hunger might have provoked them in the next few hours. Despite the practicality of the gesture Cassandra was far too comfortable pressed against his side to think rationally about it all. As the minutes had slipped by her brain slowly clicked into a higher level of functioning.

Reality was a gloomy thing to contend with when one would rather sleep. Confronted with the realization that she still had to shower before being able to comfortably spend at least six hours curled up beneath the sheets. Groaning regretfully she managed to pull herself to her feet.

Moving away from Tom’s side and the heat, and the security that his figure offered was one of the hardest things that she had done that evening. When he gave her a confused look she offered him a rueful shrug.

“I need to shower.” She managed to get the words out past the yawn that cracked her jaw. “Otherwise,” Cass continued as she padded over the carpet to her bag, “I will feel revoltingly – and distractingly – crusty.” 

Tom only laughed as she pulled a tank top and boy shorts out of the luggage. Flashing him a rueful grin as she made her way to the bathroom, she only sighed. “Yes,” she remarked theatrically. “The woes of hairspray among other things. Sleeping on it is only asking for disaster.”

Not that she hadn’t been willing to risk it anyway, as of twenty minutes ago. Now, though? The tile floor met her bathroom as she reached over to turn only one of the four switches on. A single overhead light flickered on, dimly illuminating the facilities. While the deep basin of the bathtub offered a luxurious promise she knew that she would only fall asleep in it should she try. Reaching into the large glass paneled shower, Cassie turned the hot water on.

Letting the water run as it warmed up the woman shucked off the t-shirt that had kept her feeling comfortably modest earlier. Letting it heap on the floor, she kicked the fabric of her elegant underwear on top of it. The counter offered a resting spot for the more practical underwear and tank top that she would dress in after. Contenting herself with these arrangements, Cass ducked into the cascade of water.

Shutting her eyes the woman tipped her head back and let the water trail down her entire figure. The day felt as if it was washing away, she thought. The weight of moisture dragged the curled and twisted locks down to their straightened length. Sighing in quiet relief Cassandra shut her eyes and took another half step back so the water fell directly on her face.

The patter of water and the dim lighting of the bathroom permitted the surprise. The only warning she received was a draft of dry, cooler air entering the glass confines of the shower. Reaching up to wipe away the water from her eyes, Cass straightened and stepped out of the water’s path to look at what had changed.

In that same instant Tom closed the distance between them, pressing her bare chest against his as he backed her up lightly into the shower again. This time the spray hit him as well. Cupping the back of her head gently, he leaned down to press a kiss against the corner of her lips. 

Caught by the contact Cassandra’s eyes couldn’t wander to take in the length of his bare figure. Instead, her arms twined tightly around his ribcage as his other hand stroked softly down the curve of her back. Arching away from the touch in a natural response to the sensitive area being so thoroughly tended to, Cass made a sound low in her throat.

His gaze locked intently on hers as his lips turned up into a roguish smile. “I think,” he murmured, pausing to let his teeth tease the sensitive skin of her jaw, “I warned you against making those noises, darling.”

She exhaled heavily, the sensation of her knees weakening taking her by surprise. It was only Tom’s hand at the small of her back that kept her up.

Feeling her entire body going lax the man – damn him, she thought – only chuckled. “First things first, though – yes?”

Abruptly Cassie tried to reel in her mind. The distracting drag of her sensitive chest against his that stimulated her had to be ignored. The rasp of his masculine leg against her own bare one was equally diverting and also needed to be discarded from her awareness. Tom’s fingers, curving gently around her hip and threading into her hair depending on the hand – made a thought process a nearly impossible task.

Feeling a finger get caught in a snarl of hair though finally managed to reroute her brain. Cass whimpered slightly at the predicament. Despite having him here, appealingly naked and affectionate, she had to address such mundane things as washing her hair? She shut her eyes, sighing heavily.

“You are a bad, bad man,” she told him flatly. “Let the record note that I find this incredibly unfair.” She reached out to grab the hotel’s offering of shampoo, squirting it into her palms. 

As she did so Tom only laughed. It didn’t help Cass’s mood as she brought her hands up to lather the soap in her hair. She turned slightly so her front wasn’t bare to his regard. It seemed that exposing her back to him wasn’t any wiser. Both of his hands rested lightly on her shoulders, pressing firmly for a moment. 

Seconds later his fingers worked into her hair, more gently than she had been doing. The varying pressure on her skull was a decadent massage. Letting her head fall back into his careful ministrations, Cassandra let his touch dictate what she was meant to do. When his fingers came out of her hair and gently nudged her back under the spray, she shut her eyes and let the water rinse the soap free.

She might have stood there forever had a hand curving around her hip to rest lingeringly over her lower belly pulled her back against him. She didn’t feel his chest against her back so there must have been some space between them she knew. Still, knowing that he was there, so tantalizingly close and yet not touching, was beyond distracting.

Taken by those thoughts and wound so tightly with anticipation Cass trembled as his hands returned to her hair. This time, he smoothed the conditioner through the long ends of her locks. It required much less finesse than the shampoo had done.

Instead of returning to the water to let it come out of her hair immediately Cassie elected to turn. It was a gesture that took Tom by surprise – she could see his jaw tighten as his muscles locked against an impulsive movement. What might it have been? She wondered curiously, but was destined to disappointment as he remained still.

“Turn around,” she invited quietly. He glanced at her questioningly but obeyed.

While he was too tall for her to easily wash his hair, Cass found that the broad expanse of his back was equally inviting. The masculine width that was framed with lithe muscle was unequivocally Tom. After lathering her hands with soap, she carefully began up at the top of his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

While it could only be an improvised massage, she let the soap smooth her path over the lightly golden skin. Her fingers occasionally pressed more firmly to a delighted sound of pleasure from the man. Pleased with her success Cass stepped back as her hands stopped just above his butt.

Lacking the courage to go lower, or the bravery to do the front, she felt the spray of the water hit her shoulders again. It was only in that moment that Tom registered the fact that she had well and truly abandoned him.

A sound that might have been a groan or a growl caught in his throat as he turned. Looking down at her, he shook his head. “Wicked, wicked woman.” She offered him a guileless smile in reply.

He didn’t bother to waste his time with words. It only took one step for him to draw close to Cassandra and crowd her more firmly under the cascade of water. It fell over him now, too. Disregarding that, he bent down to lock his arms around her waist as his lips ravaged hers in a desperate kiss.

By the time they parted, her hair had been rinsed of conditioner and his back had been washed free of soap. Letting her hands rest on his chest for support Cass looked up as she panted to catch her breath.

Somewhat less surprised by the intense response, Tom’s forehead fell down against hers in an affectionate posture. His arms around her didn’t relax. Her palms on his skin remained equally motionless. As they stood transfixed it seemed an eternity before coherent thought came back to either of them.

“We should get out,” Cass offered in a timid attempt at breaking the terse silence.

“We should,” Tom agreed with a deceptively mild tone.

From the way neither of them moved, though, it was clear that it would be long seconds more before either of them could stand to part from one another. In the dim light of the bathroom Cassandra let any remnant of stiffness ebb from her body as her chest melded against his. Her fingers slid down to his waist, hooking around the small of his back.

In response, Tom only tightened his arms around the smaller figure. He shut his eyes, tilting his head to rest his cheek on the top of her head. Curved about her as he was he could feel every inch of the woman’s figure pressed against him. It was, he thought, an appropriate moment to share in light of all that had happened recently. Feeling her beside him, knowing her body against his, and having seen her walk with him – he knew Cassandra Moore’s measure. While he had never doubted, Tom could only find a growing appreciation for the woman in his arms after all that he had seen. It would be worth it, Tom concluded. After all, she already was. 

The heavy weight of his head on top of hers stilled Cass for a moment. She wanted to move, wanted to turn her lips into his chest but as it was she could only remain still without disturbing him. Instead, she raked her nails gently up along his spine. It wasn’t an unkind touch but the sensory stimulation clearly startled Tom. He straightened slightly, his chest pressing more firmly against hers.

Pleased with his response, Cassie hm’d in quiet satisfaction. She pressed her lips against the bare skin of his chest in an open mouthed kiss. Even with the warm water pouring around them it was a scaldingly hot touch. Surprised, the man stiffened. It didn’t keep Cassandra from her investigations.

The hot kisses trailed up closer to his collarbone. Finding the skin papery thin, the woman gently dragged her teeth over it curiously. He groaned lowly in a sound that reverberated through his chest. Quietly content by the response, Cass lifted herself to her toes. Feeling her move against him Tom’s grasp around her waist firmed slightly.

She leaned away briefly to look up at him. His eyes were shut and the muscles of his jaw remained tight. It was gratifying, Cassandra thought, that she could evoke such a response. He brought her along so often, instigated things – it was only fair that she could return the favor.

With such a thought in mind she returned to her dedicated exploration of his responses. Her lips sealed over a patch of skin at the base of his throat. Sucking tightly, she nearly drew back in surprise as Tom shifted. His arms unwound from her waist but she found that his hands rested on her hip bones. The fingers clasped in an almost bruising touch around them. Smug with her success, Cass parted from the sensitive location on his neck. Still balancing on her tip toes, she was capable of brushing a light kiss against his jaw.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Tom groaned quietly. “You’re-“ his voice cracked as Cass rotated her hips lightly in his hold. His arousal was pressing more firmly against the light swell of her abdomen. “Damn it, Cass.” His eyes were still shut while his head rested against the tiled shower wall.

“You’re tired. I’m trying to take care of you.”

A sultry giggle came from Cassandra’s lips. Oh, if only he knew how well he set himself up for that one.. Letting her hand curve around from his back to cross the side of his hip, her fingers trailed lightly over his erection. It was a soft touch, one that lacked the firmness and stimulation that Tom clearly craved.

Still, he couldn’t keep his hips from jerking at the brush of her fingers.

“Stop then,” she murmured. She felt him straighten against her, saw his eyes open to peer down to meet hers. “Stop trying to take care of me. At least, taking care of that. Sleep is easy on a plane.”

Cassie looped her fingers more firmly around his cock. Even as Tom seemed prepared to reply she silenced him with a purposeful movement of her wrist, palming him gently.

She felt his fingers curl even more tightly into her hips. “You’re not playing fair,” he managed to gasp out as she continued her stroking.

She wondered what gave that away. Changing the pressure, her grasp around him lightened to the smooth brush of her fingertips again. At the loss of stimulation she could feel his own hips curve forward, instinctively attempting to follow the touch.

Cass grinned, eyes brightening as fatigue ebbed away. Adrenaline took its place and she took advantage of it. The hot press of her kiss against his jaw ended in a light nip. “I’m not interested in fair.”

“God, woman..”

“Another good reason why expecting me to be fair is stupid,” she pointed out. Her voice was more breathless now, as he drew up to his full height. It placed the tantalizing fixture of his lips out of her reach. The loss, though, was made up by the scalding look Tom delivered to her as he peered down at her.

One hand parted from her hip. The fingers spread out, smoothing up her side. She shivered lightly at the sensation, coupled with the water pouring over her shoulders. He only stopped when it crossed over her ribcage to lightly palm her breast. The tip was hardened with her own arousal and his thumb made a rough pass over it.

Cass’s knees weakened at the touch. He did it again, and she nearly purred with the sensation.

It wasn’t fair that he was thinking on gaining the upper hand so effortlessly. The thought blazed through her mind and the woman’s plans were reoriented.

The fingers that had never left his erection closed around the stiff length again. Palming him once more, she let her wrist flex to trail all the way up to the tip and back. While it might have been an attempt to coax him into action, she couldn’t have imagined what that action might be.

His hand left her breast. Settling both of them firmly around her waist, she was lifted slightly off the ground. The shock of the movement had both of her hands shifting abruptly to rest on his chest in an attempt to steady herself.

Once Cass was given seconds of stillness to reorient herself she catalogued a number of sensations. The cold glass of the shower wall was pressing against her shoulders. A light strain pulled at the muscles of her right thigh, as she found it was hooked over Tom’s hip. A hand settled in the bend of her knee to keep it there. His other forearm was braced on the glass beside her shoulder, steadying himself as he leaned down to lock his lips with hers.

Well. Alright then.

Unwilling (and unable, but that didn’t matter in the least) to complain, Cass let one of her hands brush against the side of his ribcage. Letting her fingers settle there, her other palm pressed against the shower wall for security. 

Her lips parted into the bruising kiss as he pressed more closely against him. Tom’s broad shoulders blocked the spray of water from the shower. Without its warmth Cassie felt a brief shiver of cold trailing down her spine.

It was, however, quickly banished. With her thigh hooked over his hip as it was, he was able to grind his erection against her in a way that left her breathless. Unable to help it, her head fell back away from the kiss as she moaned.

Leaving his hand behind her knee to support her, Tom’s other parted from the glass. His fingers found her, stroked her cleft intimately before lightly plying the stiffened nub at its top. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip Cass tried to muffle the instinctual cry. 

As the slim length of his index finger pressed against her Cassandra found her sound choked off as he pressed it into her. It was a slow, unrelenting progression. Only when his palm was pressed against her mound did he stop, a husky chuckle sounded through the bathroom.

“You’re so wet,” Tom murmured, his voice graveled with desire. He bent down to press his lips against her neck. “It’s enthralling.” His teeth gently closed on the tendon there. Incapable of processing the multitude of stimulations, Cass stiffened and trembled against him.

She couldn’t even flippantly tell him that it was all his fault. Instead, her fingers scrabbled nearly frantically against his chest as she rocked her hips against his hand. Only after his teeth tightened slightly at the side of her neck, did he let it go. Tom’s low laughter sounded again.

He withdrew his finger, slowly twisting it as it exited. When he went to press it back into her scalding heat, it was coupled with another. The increased width and sensation had Cass nearly frantic. Lifting her hand from the glass, she hooked it over his shoulder. Lifting herself on the toes of her one foot on the ground she sought to increase the nearly teasing contact he had instigated.

“Please,” she pleaded desperately. “Oh god.. Tom. Tom, please-”

He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. It was a chaste kiss, one that sought to soothe the frantic woman. Withdrawing his fingers only after he rubbed lightly at her clit again, he settled his hand at her hip.

“Easy does,” he replied huskily. “I’ve got you, Cassie.”

Hitching her leg higher up on his side, Tom brought his hips forward to press the tip of his erection against her heat. Feeling the slow, nearly teasing brush Cassandra whimpered again, eyes opening to look pleadingly at him. When he only smiled in return, her frantic desperation gained an edge of temper. Letting the hand at his ribcage reach around to his back, her nails dragged down his skin much like she had done earlier. This time, however, it was unquestionable that she had left furrows across the expanse, and instead of letting her fingers trail back up lightly again, her fingers settled onto the curve of his ass, seeking to goad him forward.

Wordlessly, he complied. With the same relentless, steady momentum that he had inflicted upon her with his fingers, Tom pressed himself into her. Once he could go no further his eyes sought that of the woman against him.

Only the pale expanse of her throat met his gaze. Cass’s head had fallen back against the glass in response to him finally seating himself. The thigh against his hip had tightened in an unyielding hold and she trembled against him. 

Letting his lips brush against her cheek, Tom withdrew his hips before thrusting back more firmly. She only whimpered in reply. 

“Cass,” he coaxed lowly. Her bright eyes finally met him. “Can you lift your other leg ‘round my hip?” 

The sweet concern he showed, even in the midst of sex, tightened a vice grip around Cassandra’s heart. Leaning up to catch him in a kiss, she parted only after nipping his lower lip playfully. “Make it worthwhile,” she teased throatily.

“Delighted to,” Tom managed to reply. Despite the calm intonation of his voice every muscle in his body had grown taut. Letting his hand trail to cup the bottom of her other thigh, Cass trusted her weight to him as she pressed her shoulders more firmly against the glass.

She hitched her legs more tightly around his waist. He leaned into her, firm hands cupping the underside of her thigh. Hiking her up higher against the glass, Tom pressed his lips into the hollow of her throat. Sucking against the skin there in a mirror act of what she had done to him earlier, he flexed his hips into hers again.

Letting both of her hands wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to find some semblance of security in the position, Cass keened as his arousal pressed deeply into her, plying a part of her channel that was entirely new to her.

“This,” Tom gasped, as he pressed into her again, “won’t be long.”

She didn’t bother to reply verbally. Her nails curved into his skin as another jarring thrust left her breathless. The coiling tension in both of them was growing exponentially. Feeling her tighten around him, panting airly, Tom shifted his feet slightly to let more of her weight rest against the wall.

Freeing one of his hands that way he brought his thumb to press down on her clit. While he stimulated her unrelentingly, he thrust more deliberately into her.

It was all that Cassandra could take. “Tom! Oh-Christ, Tom!” 

She was left boneless against the glass as her voice failed her, and quivering around him as she came to her own completion. Through it all though, his thumb continued to ply her clit, prolonging the sensation. At the same time, Tom thrust twice more. The tension and heat coiled in the pit of his belly as he felt her clasp him more tightly. It was all he could do to flex his hips once more, before he felt his own end come.

Leaning against her and pressing her tightly into the glass, neither of them moved for an unmeasurable amount of time. The first indication of change was Cass’s left leg slowly sliding down from his hip to rest against the ground. Her right was still supported by his nearly bruising grip. His hand left her mound to stroke affectionately over her side.

When Cassandra’s feet both rested on the floor and Tom’s hands left her waist, she finally managed to look up at him. Color flushed high in his cheeks, and she suspected hers looked the same.

The heat of the showerhead’s spray continued to pound against Tom’s back, before he reached behind him to turn it off. Shakily stepping forward away from the glass, Cassie gingerly navigated the wet expanse of the shower. His palm settled at her hip in a quiet effort to support her.

She stepped out first, edging aside to let him exit. Glancing at the clothes she had left on the countertop, Cass repressed a tired giggle. Linking her fingers with his, she tugged a towel off the rack and handed it to him. 

Tom smiled in quiet thanks as he brusquely rubbed the moisture off. For her part, Cassie took the time to wring out her hair over the sink. As she completed that task she twitched in surprise feeling terrycloth fold around her. Tom stood behind her, enveloping her in another towel.

“C’mon,” he entreated quietly, sounding mellow and content. “Let’s go to sleep, Cassie.”

He took her hand in his and together they passed through the bathroom to the bedroom beyond. Neither seemed to care that they were trailing water through the rooms. As Tom peeled back the covers, Cass took a moment to blot away as much of the moisture beaded on her skin as she could. 

Letting her boneless legs give out, though, falling onto the crisp clean sheets over the mattress left her groaning in pleasure. Beside her, Tom chuckled. Looping an arm around her, he pulled her across the mattress closer against his chest. Flipping the sheet up over both of them, they settled against the pillows comfortably.

Resting her hands over his, Cassandra let her eyes drift shut. A light smile played over her lips. He was astounding, her sleepy mind mused. The sex – well, yes, but the man himself. And he was hers.

It was on that thought that she relaxed fully, the blank slate of repose taking over her mind. Given how limp she had been before it was not an obvious change. Behind her, Tom nuzzled his nose behind her ear.

“I love you,” he breathed quietly to the sleeping woman. “I love you, Cass.” 

He received no response. Brows furrowing at the lack of reply, Tom propped himself up on an elbow to peer down at the woman through the dim room. With all the lights shut off he could only barely make out her features, but it was enough.

All the tension of the waking hours had smoothed away in repose. Abruptly his expression altered. Helplessness and irony flickered across his features as he exhaled slowly. Smiling ruefully, his hand reached down to pull the sheet more completely over her damp skin. The heavier blanket followed. 

After bending down to brush a gentle kiss against her cheek, he settled back down on the mattress behind her. Tom let the weight of his arm settle into the curve of her waist. “Oh, Cassie,” he murmured quietly as he shut his eyes. “Not yet, then. Not just yet.”


	31. Luck, Be a Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a few chapters being posted in fairly quick succession! For additional details or notes on this chapter please refer to this link http://dfmtinfo.tumblr.com/page/4 (however, keep in mind that the tumblr posts reference the FF.net chapters. You're looking for information on chapter 35). Sorry for the confusion!
> 
> This takes place on April 12, 2012 at the London Premiere (at Vue Cinema).

Faced with the choice between standing awkwardly alone in the glossy expanse of the hotel lobby or retreating to one of the chairs set to the side, Cassandra Moore’s decision was nearly inescapable. Instead of remaining, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, she lowered herself into one of the comfortably plush armchairs. It offered a view of the elevator that she had stepped off of not long ago. The clear line of sight would at least, give her a glimpse of those she was looking for.

She sighed in frustration. It would have been so much easier if Scarlett hadn’t already gone. The smaller blonde woman had a way about her that smoothed over the most unheralded of introductions. Nerves fluttered uneasily in her stomach at the idea of having to face this one, alone.

Folding her fingers together and carefully placing them in her lap Cass made a conscious effort to avoid displaying her nerves through her fidgeting. Inhaling shakily, she shut her eyes a moment. When she opened them, her gaze had already turned down to her feet.

How unglamorous.

Dressed in jeans and a wool turtleneck, she was a far cry from the elegant people passing back and forth through the hotel lobby. It seemed that a number of prestigious individuals had elected to stay there the night before The Avengers premiere in London. Even in their casual outfits, they offered a more glamorous picture than the American woman who sat off to the side. Diverted from her purpose of keeping tabs on the elevator, Cass actively repressed her desire to start suddenly as someone spoke off to her right.

“Excuse me?”

Cassie’s eyes flicked over in lieu of jumping. A heavily pregnant woman stood there, looking at her with an equal measure of uncertainty. Why she was unsure, Cassandra couldn’t exactly say. She was absolutely gorgeous, despite the fact that she looked nearly uncomfortably pregnant. If the fact that the accented woman hadn’t been painfully gorgeous, the fact that she was incredibly pregnant would have given it away. Rising to her feet quickly, Cass nearly tripped as the skin on her left leg pulled uncomfortably with the sudden extension. Her features tightened in a grimace briefly as she turned to face the other woman with an attempt at a smile. Yes, Cassie thought. She wished Scarlett were here.

“Hi,” she replied awkwardly. Her hands were still clasped in front of her. Realizing this, Cassandra offered one to the other woman. “I’m Cass – Cassandra. Are you Elsa?”

The stilted greetings seemed a better ice breaker than any measure of smooth self composure might have been. The foreign woman clasped Cassie’s hand between two of her own, pulling the blonde closer. Embracing her kindly, Cassandra was struck at how very little she was, in comparison to her pregnant stomach. The hug was almost awkward as a result, but the warmth in the gesture eased the tension in her spine.

“I am sorry.” The accented voice – Spanish, Cass managed to register, as she catalogued all she knew about Chris Hemsworth’s wife – was distractingly lovely to listen to. “I had a hard time getting out of the room today.” Elsa drew back, smiling up at the younger woman. Left adrift at the display of such warmth, Cassandra floundered a moment. Instead, she offered the other woman a rather helpless shrug.

“No worries,” she replied after a moment. “Scarlett’s already left and I don’t really have a schedule to begin with..”

Elsa laughed. It was such a kind sound. Only belatedly did Cass realize that as distracted by it as she was, the others in the lobby had also looked over to where the two women stood. It didn’t seem to bother her companion but the weight of those curious stares, and the glances of recognition as they identified the Spanish woman, made Cassie itch with discomfort.

“It is good to meet you before, regardless,” Elsa remarked effortlessly. Even after they had separated from the hug, she had retained possession of Cassandra’s hand. Squeezing it kindly, she took half a step back before relinquishing the hold. “I have heard much of you from Chris-“

“-Oh, no!” Cass interjected brightly, humor rising. She couldn’t repress the laughter or the rueful shake of her head. “I’m afraid to know precisely what you’ve heard.”

“Only this and that.” It was an attempt to dismiss Cassie’s concerns but the amusement lingering in the beautiful woman’s eyes didn’t ease her fears in the least. “He mentioned how delightfully you managed to leave Robert and Jeremy gaping.”

Cass groaned. Rubbing her fingers uneasily over her forehead for a moment, she threaded them through her locks and tugged at her hair distractedly. “That,” she replied after a moment, “is exactly what I was afraid of. Did he at least tell you his act of gallantry?”

“That, I did not hear.” Tilting her head to the side, Elsa smiled mischievously at the younger woman again. “You shall have to tell me of what my husband has neglected to share with me when we speak later. Do you know how today will go?”

That - …was a very good point. Blinking at the sudden about-face of the conversation, Cassandra shook her head slightly. It was as good an answer as any and one that Elsa very easily interpreted.

“Foolish men,” the Spaniard muttered in a pique of vexation before her good nature returned. “They seem so quick to forget that we appreciate knowing what to expect! Tom.. Bah! We will have words about this later, he and I, worry not.”

The rapid flow of words left Cassandra struggling to keep up. While the accented voice was no challenge to comprehend, the swift change of emotions left her reeling. In the end all the woman could do was offer Elsa a sheepish smile.

“Ah,” she proclaimed after a moment, noting Cassie’s silence. “Do not feel nervous. You have already been to several of these, yes? When they go up on stage-” stage, Cass thought?! “-we will all be seated together, you and I and your friend. If there is time, we should speak more about this, then. You must tell me what Chris has been up to.”

Cass figured that blinking wasn’t necessarily an answer. It was impossible not to respond favorably to the woman’s warm heart and charming frankness. Instead, she smiled. “I’d like that,” she replied quietly, self assurance returning to her. “There are a few good stories to tell, anyway.”

Elsa smiled brightly at her even as she made to walk back through the lobby. “I’m certain you can tell me many things that I can then torment my husband with the fact that I know.” Both women laughed at the thought, thinking of the tall Australian and his nature. “Speak with me later if you find me. No matter where it is. We will be friends in this, Cassandra.”

The American nodded mutely, a softer smile settling over her features even as Elsa brusquely reached over to hug her. “Good. I shall expect this of you.”

Watching the small, heavily pregnant woman make her way through the lobby again, Cassie sank down into her chair. All of the sudden any energy she had was sapped from her. Shutting her eyes and letting her head loll back, she only groaned lowly as another familiar voice spoke.

“That seemed.. intense.”

She didn’t bother to open her eyes. “You have no idea. I feel like all of them have another gear that normal people don’t.” The feminine voice laughed and Cass felt someone sit down on the solid arm of the chair. Opening her eyes to look up at the familiar brunette, Cassie smiled slightly.

“And yet you drag me into this without regret.” Lisa’s tart rejoinder evoked a snicker from her former patient. Leaning down, the nurse looped an arm over the top of her shoulders. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

“Technically,” Cass pointed out even as she shut her eyes, “you have Tom to thank. Or blame. I just thought it was a good idea.”

“You’re telling me Tom pulled my name out of the list of people he knew were your friends?”

Cassandra sighed. “Alright, no, he didn’t. He just thought I might like to have a friend come with. It sounds like there’s quite the event going on with this. The woman you saw a little while ago..she’s Elsa. Chris Hemsworth’s wife.”

Lisa stared blankly at her.

“Tall blonde man.”

“You narrowed it down to.. what, two?”

“I’d actually argue that Chris Evans isn’t blonde in real life.. And he’s not even here. Longer hair. The not American tall blonde man.”

Lisa laughed, squeezing around Cass’s shoulders lightly. “It’s alright, I knew where you were going with that. It’s fun to watch you try to deal with this, I will admit.”

“..you’re not a very nice person. Why did I invite you again?”

As both women laughed they extricated themselves from the chair. In mutual agreement, it was determined that it was time to leave for their own preparation. For a fleeting moment Cassie paused and thought of the man she had woken up with that morning. His arm had curled possessively around her waist and the hand was nearly melded against the small of her back even in sleep. She had curled against his side, cheek resting on his shoulder. The alarm was an unpleasant reminder of the reality of the day. No matter how wonderful the waking hours were, there was something idyllic about the mornings where she could lay on the sheets and lose perspective of the world. She was only Cass. He was only Tom. That was all that mattered. Reality called, and she was a most insistent mistress, though.

“So, what exactly am I expecting here?”

“To throw your modesty into the garbage,” Cass retorted sardonically. “I’ve never felt like I’ve exposed myself more often than I have when I’ve got people getting me ready for these things.”

“Oh, good,” Lisa remarked blandly. “Because it’s not like I haven’t seen your tits or anything by this point. I know all of your secrets.”

Cassandra paused as they walked out of the hotel lobby to the street-side where they would hail a cab. “Yes,” she replied quietly, voice more somber. “You do. You’ve seen me at my worst, anyway.”

Lisa’s hand rubbed the back of her arm comfortingly. “Hardly your worst. Maybe when you needed the most help.”

The two women ducked into the back seat of a taxi. After giving the driver the address of the building where they would be getting ready, Cassandra reclined back into the seat. Silence might have settled between them had Lisa not reached over to dig a finger into Cass’s side.

As the younger blonde squealed and curved away from the touch, Lisa giggled. “So. Modesty will be shot. What else?”

Attempting to regain her breath, Cassie rolled her eyes at the woman she was creating a budding friendship with. “Cameras. Lots of them. Tom said someone would come get you around the same time he’s here for me. So it sounds like he’s got it worked out that you’ll walk with someone. We may not spend time on the carpet together but once that’s done Elsa shared that it sounds like there’s a… presentation? Regardless, I’m pretty sure they’re meant to do something before the showing so we’ll be on our own then. And then the movie? That’s my understanding of it.”

Lisa laughed again, ruffling Cassandra’s hair. “So do as we’re told?”

“You begin to understand my life,” Cass replied with a grin.

 

* * *

 

“I completely understand your life,” Lisa replied as a woman brusquely tutted at her for speaking when she was attempting zip up the dress. Squeaking as the aid pinched the material together to finish the dress’s closure, Cassie looked over and grinned.  
  
Wise enough not to interfere with the women fastidiously applying makeup, doing hair or settling the dress around her the only awkward moment had occurred when the blonde woman had been coerced to shuck her jeans. The garish scar tissue that still remained a visual sore spot had two women staring.  
  
“What?” Lisa’s authoritative voice had rang across the room at that point. “It’s healing so well, Cassandra. It’s good to see it now because you wouldn’t let me see it earlier. I haven’t seen it since the initial post-op of the grafts. Your burns are healing nicely.”  
  
Swallowing her gratitude as the nurse edged out the uncomfortable stares of the aids, Cassandra spread her arms with a rueful grin. “We’re in your hands,” she entreated politely, ignoring the way that people still seemed distracted by the scars. After that it was business as normal. The conversation between the two American women was lighthearted, as were their interactions with the stylists who had taken it upon themselves to dress them. Cassandra herself was done before Lisa was, standing on a raised podium as a woman bent over to fuss with the skirt’s hem. It was the first shorter dress that Cass had worn and she gave the dresser an uncertain look.

The older woman rested a warm hand on her bare shoulder. “No need to worry, Miss,” And despite her best efforts, Cassie couldn’t manage to convince them to call her Cass. “It won’t show anything outlandish. Don’t you fuss over that.”

Smiling at the offer of comfort, Cassandra turned her eyes back to where they were fussing with the elegant back of Lisa’s dress. Trying to get the crossed straps to lay correctly seemed to be requiring a measure of attention that her own simple strapless dress hadn’t warranted. Grinning at Lisa’s awkward expression, Cassie lifted her hand to wiggle her fingers at her friend impishly.

“Lucky you,” she shared cheerfully, eyes bright with humor.

Lisa’s level brown stare promised a slow, drawn out retribution. “Lucky me,” she agreed, fighting to remain still as another woman joined the fray bringing the count to three trying to get it to sit the way it should. Edging towards the door, Cass gave an uneasy glance to the idle women who seemed inclined to return to fussing with the tall blonde’s hair. If it were possible to fit more pins to make it remain sleek and undisturbed, she wasn’t certain she wanted to know. The sight of a man in a suit beyond the glass pane of the door’s window caught her attention.  
  
Luke offered a familiar view.  
  
“I,” Cassandra proclaimed, “will be back in a moment. Just need a breath. It’s warm in here.”  
  
It was only a thinly veiled excuse. The London April day wasn’t warm and the heat in the room was necessary to keep the women, with their bare shoulders, from freezing. Still, as Cass padded barefoot into the hall, it would have to do.  
  
“Luke,” she entreated to the man’s back. “A word if you please?”  
  
It had been too long in coming. Their last discussion had been stymied by circumstance. This one, though? Well, there was more that yet had to be said.  
  
“Cassandra,” the publicist remarked, wheeling about on his heel. His expression seemed strangely relieved, Cass thought. He was happy to see her? “I’m glad to see you. We need to talk.”  
She gave him a suspicious look to which Luke laughed awkwardly at. “Please,” he entreated, holding both hands up in a gesture of peace. “I know we haven’t gotten on well in the past but I have nothing against you. I just want to make it so that today works as well as it’s meant to. And then in the broader sense, that you and Tom have a chance.”  
  
Wind thoroughly taken out of her sails, she offered him a polite smile. Forgiveness wasn’t necessarily forthcoming but if what he said was true there was no need to say the words she had been mulling over for the past few days.  
  
“Alright,” Cass replied steadily. “Given that instruction has been lamentably sparse, if you have any it would be appreciated.”  
  
Luke Windsor smiled at that. “Come,” he said, reaching out to clasp Cassandra’s hand in his, nodding to a host of chairs in an alcove in the hall. “We can speak there.”  
  
Following his lead (and the insistent pull of his hand around hers) Cass found herself sinking down elegantly into the seat. Even as she did so she automatically glanced down at the shorter hem of her dress. It fought to creep up her thigh only when she sat. Hopefully the darkness of the theatre would obscure any scar that would show then. For the moment though, she twitched it down before lifting her eyes to Luke’s.  
  
“The carpet itself won’t be much of a difference. Tom’ll be spending more time signing things, but you know enough of them now that you won’t be at odds. If you find yourself completely separated, there’s a corner of the carpet before you enter the building. Fans will be there, but the ones there have been vetted by security. They’re not going to be as overwhelming as some of the others along the barricades. You can wait there for Tom.”  
  
Cassandra inclined her head slightly. “Will it be a problem if I do?”  
  
Luke laughed. It was the first time she had ever seen such an expression on the man. Normally he had appeared tremendously overworked and terse. The disfavor of that impression had led to the tension, Cass mused.  
  
“Not at all,” he replied, even through his low chuckles. “I’ve been keeping an eye on how you’re being received and right now no one quite knows what to think. If you walk on your own some of the way, or with others, they’ll keep being confused. The ambiguity might help you for a little longer.”  
  
Translation: actively being identified as a leading actor’s date was going to be problematic. Interpreting that correctly, Cassie gave him an ambiguous smile. “I can do that. And during the showing itself? I met Elsa earlier. She mentioned some form of presentation?”  
  
Luke groaned, running a hand through his shorter hair. “Right. No one’s told you about that.. Well. Doesn’t matter. You’ll be seated with everyone’s dates. The actors will be on stage. Some interviews, basic introduction of the film and what have you. Not a problem. Ushers know who you are, you’ll be put in the right place.”  
  
Something that had tightened in Cass’s stomach unwound slightly at the explanation. Tension eased further as her shoulders relaxed back. Exhaling slowly, she grinned ruefully at him. “That makes me feel infinitely better.” Her eyes drifted to the watch on his wrist, noting the time on the clock face.  
  
Tension slammed back into her as she realized she was getting closer to the time that Tom had indicated he’d be there for her. Rising, she offered Luke a polite smile. “Sorry. I’m sure there’s things that I’ve managed to skip out on. Another layer or ten of hairspray, for example. Thanks for the explanation.”  
  
Luke stayed her retreat with a touch on her wrist. Her grey eyes dropped back to him questioningly. “You had something you wanted to speak with me about?”

..That.

Biting her lip indecisively, her features remained transparent for a moment. The next second though the indecision was smoothed away. Shaking her head, Cass sighed. “No. You answered my questions. Thank you, Luke.”She walked away back into the room leaving the publicist to watch her leave. His expression seemed to indicate that he hardly believed the woman when she had replied. Still. Now was not the time to push.

Ducking back into the preparation room, Cassandra was quickly absconded by a woman who threaded silver chandelier earrings through her piercings. A pale blue stone hung on a fine silver chain, and it all matched the simple strappy stilettos that elevated Cassandra to two inches over six feet. Appropriately accessorized, she paused to take in the enormity of her reflection. The pewter grey of her dress was set off by her own fair skin. The blonde hair kept off her shoulders elongated her neck and emphasized the feminine curves of her shoulders. The cut of the hem only managed to emphasize the length of her legs, drawn even further by the barely-there heels that made her even taller.  
  
It was a beautiful look, Cass thought. Not as breathtakingly untouchable as she had been in other outfits, but lovely. She looked young. Moreover, she thought as she watched her red lips curve into a completely unpremeditated smile, she looked happy. At her side Lisa seemed less impressed by the looks and more by the fact that the blonde hadn’t toppled over in her shoes. Nearly prepared to say as much, the moment was lost as a solid knock was heard on the door. Cassandra’s heart skipped as she pivoted around quickly. It had been an authoritative rap, not a timid query for entry. Any hope that it was Tom, though, was quickly dashed as an assistant pulled open the door.  
  
Jeremy Renner ducked in, an easy smile on his features as he took in the appearance of both women.  
  
Glancing at him for a moment, Cass turned her grey eyes to Lisa. And then she looked back to Jeremy. Her confusion didn’t go unnoticed as Jeremy grinned even wider.  
  
“Tom,” he explained with an easy shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve apparently managed to land myself a date for this one, this time!”  
  
Lisa’s expression as equally baffled even as Cassandra realized what was going on. Resting an arm on her friend’s shoulder, she leaned down. “Remember how I said this was not my idea?” she said in a stage whisper so the entire room could hear.  
  
Lisa nodded mutely.  
  
“Good. Because this is not my fault.” It was hardly a vote of confidence in the situation. However everyone else managed to drive unexpected humor from the moment. Jeremy’s tongue curled out in a petulant expression of sullenness. The other women in the room only laughed.  
  
“Jeremy,” Cass continued, “this is Lisa. Lisa, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, keep in mind that she’s a nurse and probably knows a multitude of ways to hurt you. If she won’t, I will. I like this one.”  
The man winked as he stepped forward. “It’s clearly my pleasure to meet you.”  
  
“I’d say the same but I think I’m reserving judgment,” Lisa replied tartly.  
  
He grinned, offering her a hand. “I like that in a girl,” he replied easily, good humor undaunted. “Anything easy isn’t ever as much fun.”  
  
“Lisa,” an unexpected voice commented from the door, “I beg of you: feel free to step on him. I’m relatively certain that you can inflict some measure of revenge on him through that.”  
So lost in the dialogue between her friend and the actor, Cassandra had failed to register the tall man leaning against the doorframe. His hands tucked neatly into his pockets, Tom offered her a grin as her startled eyes lifted to his.  
  
Words muted in the background as she locked her gaze on his. Lisa’s quick rejoinder and subsequent departure was nearly unnoticed. She lifted a hand distractedly to wave as the nurse mentioned that she would see her later. The assistants trickled from the room moments after, leaving her to gaze across to Tom even longer.  
  
Abruptly realizing what she had been doing, Cass flushed and turned her eyes away.  
  
“I think,” Tom murmured from much closer, as she felt his arm wrap around her waist, “That I haven’t seen you quite so lovely in some time.”  
  
Cass inspected her toes. “They did a wonderful job,” she offered politely.  
  
“No, darling.” His fingers gently stroked her hip through the dress’s material. “It isn’t the dress – though it is beautiful, and you’re ravishing in it. It’s simply you. I’m glad Jeremy agreed to escort your friend, else I’d be fighting to keep him at bay all evening.”  
  
Startled, Cassandra lifted her eyes back up to his. The intense expression from the depths of his blue gaze was disconcerting. “Impossible,” she replied flippantly, trying to find steady ground. “I’m likely four inches taller than him at the moment. It’d be awkward.”  
  
Tom laughed lowly. It seemed the easiest thing in the world to come closer against his side as they walked out towards the street. “All my luck,” he replied after a moment.  
  
Cassie smiled. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “All yours.”  
  
His free hand reached over to interlace his fingers with hers. “Then I am the luckiest man in the world today, if you’re all mine.”

 

* * *

 

There was something about this premiere that seemed different, Cassandra thought. It was.. a nice sort of different, but she couldn’t quite identify what the sensation was. Her heart wasn’t in her throat, feeling like it was going to choke her from anxiety. Her lungs were breathing more easily than they had in the past. But the red carpet was still very much red, and the clamoring of the individuals on either side of it, still unnerving.  
  
The warm press of Tom’s hand at the small of her back was no longer a necessary lifeline. She smiled slightly at the realization. Her own two feet were competent enough at carrying her. She wasn’t terrified.  
  
And she wasn’t alone. Nearly eye to eye with Tom in her heels she had a relatively decent vantage point of her surroundings. Jeremy and Lisa were some ways ahead of them. Even if she rushed, she thought that they wouldn’t have managed to catch up. Judging from the way the nurse attempted to covertly lay an elbow into the actor’s ribcage, though, Cassie suspected they were doing just fine on their own. Lisa, at least, had maintained a sense of presence and didn’t look as if she were drowning.  
  
Cassandra smiled all the brighter. While there had always been guests, rarely had there been anyone else that implied significant other. With Lisa and Elsa, the blonde woman wasn’t alone any longer. Perhaps that’s what the feeling was.  
  
“I didn’t manage to tell you earlier, but I met Elsa this morning.” Conversation between them was stilted in the presence of the cameras. Tom’s implacable grin was almost permanently affixed to his features. Her own smile was not quite so open, but it too, was a constant presence.  
  
“What did you think of her?”  
  
Cassie laughed, turning her chin slightly away from the man to look the other way. “She was.. interesting. I think I could like her very much. She and Chris both – they’re lovely. I didn’t think she would be quite so very pregnant, though.”  
  
Tom’s laugh was infectious. She supposed it was a rather ridiculous thing to say. Despite that though, it was true. The beautiful, petite woman had looked ready to burst at any moment.  
“Did she seem well? I haven’t spoken with her yet. It’s been some time, actually.”  
  
Looking the other direction as she was, Cass’s slight curve of the lips widened into a broader smile. “Actually, if you’d like to, I see her a little ways away – over there. Don’t see Chris, though.”  
  
The feeling of his fingers curving gently around her side in a squeeze of appreciation was all the answer she needed. Tom leaned over though, to press a gentle kiss against her cheek in reply. “You wouldn’t mind, darling?”  
  
Cass laughed quietly. “No. They’re your friends, Tom. I wouldn’t want to keep them from you on my account.” She paused, catching a black and red dressed woman a few strides behind them. “Actually, if you’d like to go, I’ll meet you there?”  
  
The look he gave her was a surprised one. She met it with her own enigmatic expression. Squeezing the wrist of the hand that he had settled at the small of her back affectionately, Cassandra stepped away and out of his hold. There was no lingering hesitation as her expression remained utterly unperturbed by her apparent independence. It came as more of a shock to Tom. He, however, wouldn’t question it. Not here.  
  
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a bit then!”  
  
He wasn’t able to contain his enthusiasm for being able to meet up with his friends. Smiling at his departing figure as his long strides brought him over to the pregnant Spanish woman Cassandra remained still a moment longer.  
  
“That was nice of you,” Scarlett’s familiar voice remarked.  
  
Turning to meet the actress squarely Cass offered a slight smile, coupled with a shrug. “He hadn’t seen her yet. And he walks faster than I do at the moment!”  
  
Both women glanced down at the barely-there straps that kept the slender four inch stiletto heeled shoe in place. Cassie’s smile adjusted to a more rueful expression. “Apparently I need to practice. You never seem slowed by them overly much. I guess that’s on my list of things to work on.” Scarlett only laughed. The two women shared a companionable hug before the actress tilted her head in the direction that Tom had stridden off in. Cassandra’s gaze flicked over, obeying the silent order. She saw him bending down …  
  
“…Is he molesting her baby bump?”  
  
Cass’s voice was incredulous as both of her brows lifted in surprise. Scarlett only laughed.  
  
“No, seriously,” Cassie continued. “I hadn’t realized they were that well acquainted. At least, I hope they are now. Because if they aren’t then the sad truth is that being pregnant automatically makes your stomach public property to grope. Which is creepy. Very, very creepy.”  
  
Looping her arm around the taller woman’s, Scarlett navigated further down the carpet alongside her. The smile was unshakeable although the bright gleam in her eyes indicated no small measure of humor in response to Cassandra’s revelation. “You concerned?”  
  
“Yes!” Cass paused, her expression concerted for a moment. “No. Wait. That came out wrong. What are you asking about?”  
  
“Oh no,” Scarlett replied smoothly. “Spill. What are you concerned about? Do I see babies in your future?”  
  
The stunned look that Cassandra delivered in reply was one part horrified, one part repulsed and wholly appalled. Evoking laughter at the expression, she only sighed, beleaguered.  
  
“I borrow other people’s kids,” she remarked pointedly. “I get to give them back at the end of the day. I also only want them after they’ve hit a certain age. Infants scare me.”  
  
They kept walking after that. It was less than a minute later that Cass saw Tom look over in her direction, tilting his head in silent inquiry. Recognizing the wordless communication, she turned to Scarlett with the expectation of taking leave from her friend. Instead of polite niceties though, the actress reached up to hug Cassandra fondly. Squeezing the woman tightly around the waist, Scarlett was still forced to lift herself higher on her toes to rest her chin on Cass’s shoulder for a moment.  
  
“We,” she proclaimed, “will do something soon that’s not media related. And it will be fun.”  
  
Embracing her in return, Cassie wondered if the surreal moment would dissolve in an instant as she woke up. When she didn’t, the woman only nodded at her friend. Friend. It had a nice sound to it. Stuck in the haze of that realization as she picked her way over the red carpet, carefully navigating around the only vaguely familiar faces or total strangers, Tom’s arm twining around her waist was a warm welcome back to reality. Leaning lightly into his shoulder in a silent greeting, she smiled up at him as he grinned back. Her eyes drifted over to where Elsa stood as well, Chris now alongside.  
  
She mulled over her question, wondering if it was too impolite to ask. It was stayed for a moment as Chris stepped forward, casually edging Tom’s arm away as he embraced the younger woman fondly. Cass didn’t bother to repress the warm smile that she met him with in return.  
  
“Chris,” Cassandra greeted. “It’s good to see you.” She found her feet more firmly placed on the ground again as the Australian stepped back. “And Elsa. You’re absolutely stunning.”  
The other woman laughed, head tilted back slightly with the gesture. “You’re too kind. Both of you,” and her sweeping gaze included Tom in that sentiment.  
  
Cass shook her head in denial, leaning down as the actress slash model, slash producer, stepped forward to greet her. It wasn’t so exuberant as others she had received that day but somehow, it seemed all the more appropriate as a response.  
  
“I would never lie,” Tom declared gallantly from behind the two women.  
  
Elsa chuckled, lifting a brow at Cassandra. “He is full of it, is he not?”  
  
She looked between the pregnant woman, and the familiar man. For a moment, silence lingered around all four of them. Then, she turned her attention to Chris. Smiling broadly, she edged away so she no longer stood between Elsa and Tom. “Chris! How are you today?”  
  
The boisterous laughter from all three of them was worth the theatrical diversion. “Well done,” the taller man acknowledged.  
  
“Hardly subtle,” Tom interjected. “But effective.”  
  
Cassandra grinned at all of them. “I feel like subtlety is lost to me at the moment.”  
  
To punctuate the sentiment, the popping bulbs of camera flashes went off. Recognizing the irony of the expression, Tom inclined his head slightly. Having ceded the point, the Englishman turned his gaze over to Chris.  
  
“Shall we?” he entreated politely.  
  
Instead of answering, Chris looked down to Elsa, who nodded without hesitation. The entire exchange left Cassandra utterly baffled. When the Spanish woman stepped forward to loop an arm around Cass’s waist, though, she didn’t let her features betray her surprise or her puzzlement. As Tom came to stand on her other side, she saw Chris on the other end. Linked together as they all were, the two men grinned widely. Elsa’s expression was equally becoming.  
  
Feeling thoroughly out of place, Cassie fought to keep her expression from drawing tight with nerves. The corner of her lips curved up into a beguilingly shy smile as her chin dipped slightly. She felt Tom’s fingers curve over her bare shoulder as his other hand lifted in a cheerful wave. It was a moment that every camera seemed desperate to take advantage of.  
Cass was left nearly blinded by the flashes. Slightly disoriented, it was only when Elsa’s arm slipped away that she let her own hand fall from the pregnant woman. She stepped back, more closely against Tom. Lifting her chin to smile up at him, she tried to blink away the spots.  
  
“Well,” she remarked mildly. “That was interesting.”  
  
Elsa laughed from the side. “You have a gift for understatement.”  
  
Chuckling sheepishly, Cass lifted her shoulders in an awkward shrug. Letting her eyes drift over the rest of the carpet they had to walk, she was pleased to note that they were coming close to the doors of the building. While it wouldn’t offer an escape from the crowds, hopefully the press would be less daunting there.  
  
Luke’s words from earlier crossed her mind. As Tom’s conversation with Elsa fell into a comfortable lull, she threaded her fingers briefly with his. Squeezing lightly, Cassie found Tom’s attention as it fell fully onto her.  
  
“Do you mind if I go on ahead?”  
  
Again, surprise played over his features. Realizing how abruptly the sentiment had come out, Cassandra laughed slightly.  
  
“Sorry,” she professed after a moment’s pause. “Not quite like that. I’m sure that there’s a number of people who are dying for your attention,” Cass pointed out after a moment. He had paused here and there to sign things and interact with people, but it hadn’t been a consistent affair. “I don’t want to feel like you’re having to dote on me to make certain I don’t commit some wretched faux pas.”  
  
Tom was preparing to speak, doubtless to voice an objection. However, Elsa seemed more than content to steamroll all the men in the vicinity. She smiled brightly, expression remarkably pleased.  
  
“I will walk a ways with her,” the Spanish woman declared without pause. “You and Chris can take the time with your fans and neither of us will be left alone.”  
  
Apparently that settled that. Tom laughed ruefully, releasing Cassandra’s fingers to hold both of his hands up in mock surrender. “I dare not argue with the ladies,” he proclaimed theatrically. Elsa reached over to swat his sleeve playfully.  
  
“Wise of you,” she retorted, looking down her nose at him even despite her shorter stature.  
  
Without waiting for either man, she turned into an unignorable force of nature as she and Cass took a few steps down the carpet in company with one another. As they went, she looked over her shoulder to Chris. “I’ll wait for you not far from here,” she informed him, before turning her attention back to Cassandra.  
  
Whose attention, at the moment, had returned to the undeniably heavily pregnant figure.  
  
“I blame Chris,” Elsa remarked wryly after a moment of silence. She didn’t stop walking. “He’s just so.. large. His brothers, too. This baby was doomed to have at least half of those genetics.”  
  
Cassie laughed ruefully. “Sorry. Staring. And as far as genetics go, they might be half giant but they’re all beautiful between the two of you. I feel like this is painfully unfair for any other kid who has to grow up at the same time as yours.”  
  
Elsa’s bright laughter seemed unperturbed by her company’s rather untoward conversation. “That’s very kind of you. We’re both so excited.”  
  
“I couldn’t tell,” Cass remarked drily. “The way that Chris seems permanently attached to your baby bump didn’t give it away at all.”  
  
The other woman snickered.  
  
“And then Tom apparently is drawn to it as well. Magnetic force? Or are pregnant women just public property all of the sudden?”  
  
“Both,” Elsa replied with an unbothered shrug of her shoulders. “They’re both so excited about it. I’m not sure the baby will have any time to herself when she comes, everyone’s going to constantly be holding her.”  
  
“Wretched fate,” Cass commented sardonically. “A doting father and hoards of uncles ready to shower her in affection. This is sounding rougher and rougher.”  
  
Elsa only laughed, shaking her head. Put that way, and perhaps the American had a valid point about it all. In the very least her child would be spoiled senseless. It was the prerogative of parents and extended relations, though. Leaning over to glance over her shoulder she noted where the two men they had left had gotten held up. She slowed her steps which brought Cassandra to a slower walk by her side.  
  
Imparting a light hug to the younger woman, the actress took an easy step back with a smile. “This, I think, is where I leave you.” Her eyes lingered on Chris for a moment again. “We’ll catch up inside, yes? You can introduce me to your friend. And the story.”  
  
The story. Trying to explain why Lisa was walking with Jeremy Renner. That story. Her smile looked more like a grimace as Cassie laughed sheepishly. “Sounds like a plan. And you can dish on Tom. I need some ammo, here.”  
  
Elsa grinned, inclining her head slightly. “I can do that. There’s a story that involves DDR. It is not good. Well, the story is. The moment.. apparently was not.”  
Choking on a giggle Cass nodded. Lifting her hand in a half wave as she kept making her way down the carpet, she could only shake her head in a picture of dismay. The picture of Tom and DDR in her mind was proving to be spectacularly hilarious.  
  
When her eyes noted the much less densely populated area near the building doors, the woman angled her way in that direction. She wouldn’t wait up right against the barricade, Cassandra decided. These people were clearly only fans – there was no professional camera among them. Trying to interact with them when she had absolutely no reason to mean anything to them would have been beyond absurd. Drawing to a halt near it, though, her eyes sought out Tom. It would be a few minutes more before he caught up, she thought. The wait shouldn’t be too interminable.  
  
“Excuse me,” a quiet voice interrupted. “I’m sorry – excuse me!”  
  
Looking up abruptly at the slightly imploring tone, Cass’s gaze swept the carpet. No one was in her vicinity, never you mind blocked by her decision to remain still. Somewhat puzzled, her eyes turned to the barricade itself. A girl that seemed around the age of her junior students was looking at her.  
  
Smoothing over her baffled expression, Cassie let a polite smile overtake her features. Taking half a step closer, she tilted her head to the side as she looked at the girl.  
  
“Hello,” she offered amiably. It lacked the easygoing charm that Tom had when he interacted with strangers, Cass lamented, but it was still at least, not stiff. “How can I help you?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” the red headed girl began again. “Wow. Um,” she broke off, pushing her glasses more firmly up her nose. It was a gesture that Cassandra recognized from her own students as a nervous attempt to reorganize themselves.  
  
“No, please,” Cass entreated calmly, her voice softer and lower now. “It’s alright. Please, I hope you aren’t disappointed, but I don’t think I’m the person you wanted.”  
  
“No!” It was a stronger tone this time. “No, no,” she reassured after a moment. “It’s not like that,” she struggled again.  
  
Letting herself settle more comfortably in her shoes, Cassandra braved the walk to come closer to the barricade. There was only a comfortable distance between them now, that of her personal space, instead of an unbridgeable chasm.  
  
“I’m Cassandra,” she offered, warmth trickling into her voice. It was her teacher’s tone, Cass noted absently. She could rule a classroom with it, but she could also quietly convince her students to confide in her as well. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Julia,” the red headed girl rushed out. “I’m Julia. Are you.. Would you..”  
  
Cass tilted her head to the side, letting Julia sort out her words. When it seemed that the girl was having trouble managing what she would have liked to say, she took up the conversation again. “Julia is a beautiful name,” she replied calmly. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Julia.” The girl could only stare up at her with a flabbergasted expression. If she had less control of her own features, Cassie thought that it might have been a perfect match of her own. Instead, the American woman remained standing still, smiling kindly at the teenager.  
  
“I’ve seen you,” she managed to share after a moment. “Pictures. You’re..” She paused, voice drawing off. “You’re very nice.”  
  
That.. hadn’t necessarily been what Cass was expecting. Tilting her head to the side, her smile broadened although was somewhat less certain than it had been before. “Thanks?” I think, Cassie added.  
  
“No! No, no, oh gosh, I’m sorry,” Julia stammered out after a moment. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that!”  
  
Cassandra laughed, lifting a hand to quiet the apology. “It’s alright,” she demurred.  
  
“But it’s true!” The teenager pressed the sentiment genuinely. “You’re really nice. It’s nothing like what people are saying! They’re wrong!”  
  
Cass filed that information away for future processing. If she tried to now, she was relatively certain that she would be reduced to being tongue tied. Given the fact that she apparently had a reputation to demolish, she figured that wouldn’t be the ideal state of affairs to fall back on. “I’m glad I could surprise you then,” she replied, still smiling. “I take it you’re a fan of Tom’s?”  
  
Julia nodded vigorously.  
  
After a moment, the teenager seemed to have thought of an idea, considered it and come to a conclusion. It all took a matter of seconds. A picture was thrust in her direction, along with a silver sharpie. Blinking at them both in confusion, Cass was about to ask if she wanted her to see if she could get Tom’s autograph.  
  
“Would you sign this?”  
  
…That… had not been what she was expecting.  
  
Apparently nothing was, actually. The confused look that the blonde was making clearly imparted something to Julia. The redheaded teenager began to stammer out another apology. It was one that Cassie rather promptly silenced by taking both the picture and the marker. Signing a corner of it that had a dark background, she handed it back to the girl with a wry smile. “You can officially claim to have the first thing of mine that I’ve ever signed that wasn’t a grade slip,” she offered ruefully.  
  
Julia stared at her. “You’re a teacher?”  
  
The semantics of having to answer that would have been too complicated. She just nodded, grinning at the stunned expression from the teenager. “I’m afraid that I am,” she offered. “Try not to hold it against me, ‘kay?”  
  
Julia shook her head vehemently. “Never!”  
  
Strange. Having one person on her side felt surprisingly good. Warmth blossomed in her heart. It lingered, even as the girl’s face turned into something closer to stunned awe.  
Feeling a warm arm wrap around her waist and the hand resting possessively over her hip, Cassandra leaned back wordlessly. Feeling Tom behind her, and the warmth of his figure, was gloriously reassuring. Meeting his eyes, she registered the rather puzzled expression he gave her.  
  
“Tom,” she remarked politely, “This is Julia.”  
  
A look at the teenager indicated that the redhead wasn’t going to be capable of speaking.  
  
“..And she would like it very much if you would sign her picture,” Cass concluded.  
  
Tom laughed, the characteristic chuckle warming Cassandra’s heart. His arm slipped away from her skin as he reached out to take the photograph from Julia’s limp fingers, the sharpie collected as well. Watching him sign it, she noted that he had written a note of thanks to the girl as well, above his signature.  
  
Handing it back to the girl, he seemed unperturbed by the quiet. In a matter of seconds, Cass supposed they would have walked away from the girl, leaving her with the signed picture and memories. “Wait!” They both looked at Julia, who was fumbling with her phone. “I’m sorry,” she entreated as both Cass’s and Tom’s eyes settled on her. “But.. Could you.. Would you take a picture with me?”  
  
Cass smiled at the teenager. “I can take it of you both, if you’d like.”  
  
Julia shook her head. “No.. Both of you?”  
  
“Might be a touch tight,” Tom replied easily. “Fairly sure we can manage it though!”  
  
Turning so they were both pressed against the barrier, Cass found herself having to bend her knees to descend down to Julia’s height. She couldn’t have imagined what Tom had to do. Steadied by the metal at her back, she smiled as Tom’s long arm brought the phone out, the sharp click indicating the camera function having performed its purpose. Handing it back to her, Tom gave her a kind smile.  
“  
Thank you!” Julia was nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.  
  
“You are very welcome.”  
  
Cass smiled as well. “It was nice to meet you, Julia. Thank you for coming out.”  
  
Pressed further along the red carpet by Tom’s arm as it settled warmly over her shoulders, Cassandra registered the comforting heat of his hand as his fingers rested on the bare skin. Leaning into the touch lightly, the blonde laughed ruefully. “I can safely say that was not on the list of things I expected to do today.”  
  
Tom laughed, drawing her closer. Bending down, he pressed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss. Had it not been for the insistent press of his fingers she might have stumbled to a standstill, lost in the contact.  
  
“Darling,” he replied as they passed through the doors into the theater, “you amaze me.”  
  
Cassie chuckled, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes danced. “I did nothing,” she objected. “You’re the one who made that girl’s day.”  
  
His fingers brushed gently over her collarbone. It was an intimate touch and one Cass hoped remained unseen by the cameras. Based on the fact that they were only just entering the building, she had hopes but no high expectations. Tom’s hand shifted to cradle the nape of her neck comfortingly. His thumb traced the edge of her hairline. “You’re extraordinary, Cassie,” he professed lowly, bright eyes intent on hers. She couldn’t look away, wouldn’t. Color rose to her cheeks.  
  
“This is not fair,” she professed. “Saying these things here?”  
  
The intimate moment was not broken, though the sense of it lightened. He chuckled, hand dropping down to the small of her back again as he grinned. Cass smiled in return.  
“Later, then,” he replied, the intensity not having diminished from his tone. “I’ll say them again later.. and over, and over, and over again.”  
  
Cassandra looped the arm closest to Tom around his waist as his free hand lifted to wave calmly at the people who were calling out his name. Cameras flashed again, and she couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
This was her life. It was absurd. And, Cassie thought, she was loving every moment of it.


	32. An Absurd Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place on April 22, 2012. 
> 
> This one is going to be formatted a little bit differently because going through and taking out all the indentations (which I put in for personal markers as I write). Sorry if it's a little jarring!

 

          Cass blearily thumbed through the Sunday paper, wondering why she had even bothered to wake up. It was only fifteen minutes past nine. Looking up from the newspaper she gazed longingly at the clock. There was a valid argument for going back to bed and sleeping for another four hours. Eating breakfast sounded unappealing at the moment. Not even coffee or tea seemed tantalizing.

           Her body only wanted _sleep_. The distended, discomforted feeling of unwellness in her lower abdomen only managed to second the idea of going back to sleep. Drawing her feet up so her heels hooked on the edge of the chair, Cass wrapped her arms around her lower legs. Hugging her thighs to her chest, she turned her cheek to rest them on her knees with a sigh. It was turning out to be a crappy morning.

            She figured that her internal clock was stuck somewhere in Hawaii’s time zone. It could explain the desperate desire for more sleep. Hawaii. That, Cassie mused, sounded nice. It sounded _warm._ She shivered slightly, feeling the spring chill even more prevalently than normal. Not even the long sweatpants that dropped down far enough to pool around her feet or the sweatshirt that extended beyond her fingertips could redeem it.

            Ugh. It was just a shoddy morning.

            Reaching out, Cass flipped the paper’s pages, looking for some form of news that wouldn’t require an actual thought process. World news.. no. Sports.. no. Entertainment, then, she realized grimly. At least it wouldn’t be taxing to keep up with what that section had to say.

            It was an assumption that Cassandra Moore would regret. Tremendously.

            The whirlwind of her life had taken on a surreal quality in the past week. Flying to New York, being in Los Angeles, the premiere in London.. having a handful of days for down time was a blessing. It was also _necessary,_ considering the course work she had to turn in. Disappearing into that had permitted the typically introverted woman to quiet down her mind.

            A week had been all it took to change a life. Frankly, it took less than that – it had been a night, all of those months ago in November. And then another in January. That, in the span of a week she found herself not simply acquainted with what could without _embellishment_ be called Hollywood A-listers, but friendly with them? Her world had taken a turn for the bizarre.

            And it took another.

            Staring at the entertainment page, Cassandra was frozen for interminable seconds.

            There, in full color, were a spread of photographs that were familiar. Terribly, intimately familiar. There was Chris and Elsa together. Tom and Elsa, doting on her baby bump. Scarlett in her rose accented dress. Jeremy. Mark. Robert. It was the picture at the bottom that had stilled the woman, though.

            The page dropped from between her numb fingers. It was a good thing that it had, given the way her hand fisted in tension.

            _Tom Hiddleston and unknown woman at The Avengers UK Premiere._

            As far as captions went, it wasn’t incriminating. The photo, though.. the photo was. Her heart skipped a beat as her breathing seized. Shallowly and quickly, both took off in tandem as Cass’s anxiety rose. She knew that moment. She _remembered_ that moment.

            Tom had pressed a gentle kiss into her cheek after saying something. She was laughingly replying. It was.. a private moment. It was _their_ moment. For it to be so brazenly placed on a Sunday spread was jarring. It was terrifying.

            Like a rocket Cassie lunged away from the table. Leaving the paper behind, she scrabbled frantically through the pile of papers that Jane had collected over the past few days and left on the kitchen counter. The Sunday paper.. it was respected. It was widely published, but it was respected. There was some solace in that.

            What she was looking for in the pile wasn’t immediately obvious.

            Most of the papers were pushed over in a disorganized pile. A few pages, or a few papers in their entirety, were set aside. Only after she had rooted through the papers from the past week – dating to April twelfth. The day after the first premiere.

            Ferrying the smaller pile back to the table, Cassandra spread them all out. Ruthlessly flipping through pages, they were left open at certain points. They all shared one thing in common. Pictures – pictures of her, pictures of her with Tom, articles speculating who this unknown woman was.

            And one from a smaller paper, dated from Saturday the twenty first, that had her name.

            She fell back to sit into the chair.

            Her frantically quick breaths had frozen. Cass abruptly realized she wasn’t breathing at all. Sucking in a lung full of air, she absently noted that she was _shaking._ Pulling the article forward that had introduced her in the picture by name, she bit her lip to peruse the words.

            It was a short column.

            It didn’t need to be long. The information, so succinctly delivered, was just as damning in a few sentences as long paragraphs might have been.

_Tom’s mystery girl has been identified! A Cassandra Moore, schoolteacher from Michigan, has been seen around town with Tom Hiddleston (Loki) at multiple events. They’ve been spotted together at three official events, from as far back as January although candid photos have seen her tagging around town with him more recently._

_While it looks to be all smiles between the pair, an inside source reveals that everything isn’t quite as happy as it appears. Only recently it seems that Cassandra’s mother committed suicide. Shortly after that event it was shared with us that she left her job and had an extended stay in a hospital. Close friends and family have reportedly had limited contact with Cassandra Moore since that point and are unable to say how she’s coping. While there hasn’t been any outward appearance of trouble the actions were noted as being incredibly out of character for the woman in question, and her erratic behavior has raised concern among those most familiar with her._

_To date it doesn’t seem to be a problem for Tom, as she’s been seen with him at two of the premieres for the summer blockbuster, The Avengers. They seem equally happy outside of the public eye as fan photographs have shown. This budding romance looks prepared to blossom though our inside source remains skeptical about their staying power. Cassandra Moore’s recent actions can only justify that doubt. To Mr. Hiddleston, though, we can only wish the best and congratulate him on the start of a successful summer!_

            Cass felt bile creep up the back of her throat. It was utterly unrelated to her predisposed sensation of feeling unwell. _How could they be so horrible?_

            The rest were all the same, though none mentioned her by name or alluded to her mother’s death. Shoving the papers aside, she seemed not to care that many of them fluttered to the floor. They crunched and tore under her feet as she went back to the counter to pull her laptop up.

            Opening it as she returned to the now-empty table, it was a matter of seconds to pull up a search engine. As she hovered over the URL bar, though, the woman paused. Something in the back of her mind told her _not_ to do it. That it was a bad idea. That she should shut the computer and just walk away.

            Cassie’s fingers shook as they settled down on the keyboard. After the column in the gossip tabloid she had found herself committed to this endeavor. Her teeth pulled at her lower lip indecisively. The nausea hadn’t receded in the passing seconds but the anxiety of _not knowing_ was even worse.

            Shuddering, she typed in the address for a social media site. Once she had selected the search bar, her fingers moved much more fluidly. Typing in a tag to search by took a matter of seconds. What that tag would be required no thought.

            _Tom Hiddleston Girlfriend_.

            The results were immediate. At first, all that Cassandra could register were the pictures. Some of them were unsurprising. Her dress from the War Horse premiere was familiar. The day in LA and the more recent London Premiere were equally predictable. It was the candids that shocked her most. She and Tom walking through the grounds of the Tower of London. Through a museum. Street-side.

            The smiles were real in those. The laughter, unscripted. Her look on the red carpet events wasn’t stiff, but it was untelling. To know that someone had ripped into those private moments and _put them online_ for the world to see only compounded the feeling of nausea that churned in her stomach.

            It only was made worse as she started perusing the words beneath the pictures.

            A professional headshot of Cassandra from the War Horse premiere was one of the first she saw. “ _this bitch is hideous, pushing 30 and has a bad nose job.”_

The one after was a candid. She remembered that night. She had been sitting in a booth against the wall. Tom was in a chair across from her, though the small round table at the pub wasn’t much of an impediment. He had leaned forward, cupping her thigh with a hand on each side. _“Yep, just by looking at this photo you know he got laid that night. He was probably thinking this is the easiest lay I’ve ever had so I’d better take advantage of it while I can. LOL any chick that allows a guy to put his hand between her thighs in public is just screaming bang me already. Talk about being totally classless and easy.”_

            They kept coming.

            _“I’m genuinely upset since finding out that Hiddles has a girlfriend. I kind of hate you, Cassandra Moore. You stole our perfect man from us.”_

_“The dress is not attractive at all and it does nothing for the girl’s figure. It looks like she stole her mum’s curtains and made a dress out of it. Some peeps like it but it’s not appropriate for a red carpet premiere especially when it’s her boyfriend’s premiere… second the hairdo is all wrong. She looks like a lil girl out to prom not a glam date that she’s supposed to be. Finally the make up is a bit too much and you really need to quit tweezing the brows. Any thinner and they’d disappear… girl you gotta step it up a bit if you wanna last as a future Hollywood celeb’s girlfriend/wife.”_

She slammed the laptop shut. She didn’t need to see any more. The desecration of private moments and the vitriolic commentary on the public ones roiled her stomach even more. Cass finally bolted from the kitchen.

            Slamming the bathroom door and locking it behind her, she fell to her knees before the toilet, heaving. She could only regurgitate bile. And, unlike the flu, when the first bout ceased she wasn’t left feeling any better.

            Tears streamed down her cheeks as she finally rocked back away from it, flushing the vomit. Swiping at her cheeks, Cassandra found that she couldn’t stop shaking. Jane’s voice at the door only made it worse.

            “Cassie? Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

            She shuddered as she exhaled, trying to prevent a sob. “ _No,_ ” she managed to gasp out, voice anguished.

            “Honey.. what’s wrong?”

            “It’s _nothing,_ Jane. Nothing.”

            The rustle at the door told her that her friend had left. It would only be a temporary reprieve. The instant Jane stepped into the kitchen to fetch a glass she understood what had happened. Papers and pictures were strewn about on the floor, a flagrant indication of the invasion of privacy and her life that Cass had only discovered she had endured. Eyeing the column that mentioned her by name, Jane snarled in disfavor.

            Pulling a clean hand towel out of a drawer and retrieving a glass, she returned to the bathroom door.

            “Honey, let me in.”

            “ _No,_ Jane.”

            “Cassandra, it’s just drivel. You can’t let this get to you.”

            “ _Jane!_ ” It wasn’t a shout. It was almost worse than that. The low voice was shaking with anguish. “You don’t _get_ it! I don’t even know what this is! We’re nothing! All of these people are saying all of these _horrible_ things and _I don’t even know what we are!_ We’re not dating! He’s never said as much! I’ve never asked! I don’t.. oh Christ, Jane. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

            “Sweetheart, open the door and we can figure this out.”

            The older woman’s unshakable calm remained in place although her warm brown eyes were fraught with concern. Cass’s frantic words lacked sense. They lacked thought, although they were full of emotion. Just _what_ she would do in this state was anyone’s guess.

            “Jane… I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t.. I can’t. Where do I go? I can’t go home. I can’t stay here. I can’t keep doing this, there’s so much that I don’t know! I’m so fucking _stupid,_ Jane! All the while I’m flying around in this dream and sleeping with him and I don’t even know what we _are!_ I can’t.. I can’t _do_ this anymore!”

            And that, Jane thought, answered that.

            Silently she padded away from the door. Returning to the kitchen, she found Cassandra’s cellphone on the counter where it had been left to charge overnight. Without an iota of remorse she swiped it out of locked mode and pulled up the call record.

            Selecting the name _Tom,_ she set it on speakerphone while she took a step over to a cupboard to pull out a box of crackers to try to settle her young friend’s stomach. Hearing the voicemail message come up, her lips pressed into a firmly unamused line.

            “Get over here, asshole,” she snapped waspishly in the phone’s direction. “You have shit you need to fix. And yes, it’s serious. And no, Cassandra is not alright. And yes. It’s your fault.”  
  


* * *

 

  

          Clothes were strewn about the bedroom that Cassandra had inhabited for several months. The bulk of them were crumpled and forced into the suitcase that she had brought with her to England in the first place. However, the woman wasn’t within the room’s parameters. She would be found somewhere else.

            Standing in front of the laptop where the screensaver flashed, Cass frowned at it. Damp tear tracks still marked her cheeks from where she had cried. No matter how brusquely she wiped them away more would always come. She had stopped trying to keep them contained. Despite the fact that it _felt_ like a lifetime ago that she had left her computer, in reality it had only been twenty minutes or so.

            ..but she had shut it, hadn’t she?

            Sniffling slightly, the woman gingerly reached out and brushed her finger against the touch pad. The screen flickered to life. It wasn’t where she had left it last – and more distracting was the word document with the note, “ ** _READ THESE_** ” demanding her attention. Swiping at a cheek, she tilted the screen back so she could see it where she stood.

            It was the same site that had driven her instincts to flight the last time. But the pictures were different. The _screen_ was different.

            “ _I can’t understand why fangirls get jealous of his girlfriend. I find him incredibly sweet in the pics and I think he must be the sweetest boyfriend when he’s in love. And I love to dream about him in love.”_

            Cassie blinked. Numbly she arrowed down to the next that Jane seemed to have pulled up. It was a familiar picture, a nearly exact copy as one of the ones that had shown up in the Sunday paper. Tom stood behind her, hands resting on her hips. He leaned over her shoulder. In the photograph in the newspaper he had brushed a kiss against her cheek. This one, which must have been seconds earlier, showed both of them laughing.

            “ _And here’s Tom Fucking Hiddleston and Cassandra Fucking Moore not giving any fucks about being so fucking perfectly adorable together that the whole fucking world might implode because of their gorgeous fucking happy faces.  
And they’re probably fucking GIGGLING (adorably, OF FUCKING COURSE) about it.”_

            Cass blinked again. The vitriol and venom from earlier hadn’t been forgotten – but somehow, its presence in her mind was superseded by this new knowledge.

            “Does that help anything?” Jane’s voice behind her was quieter now that she wasn’t having to talk to the woman through the bathroom door.

            Cassandra put the laptop to sleep, shutting it slowly. Without turning around she only shook her head. “No,” she choked out quietly. “No. This… _all_ of this just shows me how _stupid_ I’ve been.”

            “ _And_ she’s off again,” Jane muttered under her breath. “Being a moron.” _Like normal._ She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her abdomen. “Cassie, take a breath and think about this rationally-“

            “ _No!_ ” Cass rather thought she was getting tired of that word. It was the only one that came easily to her lips though. “No, it isn’t that. It’s.. it’s all of this. I’m a fool. I’ve jumped into something I’m only beginning to understand and if this was ever going to work I need more than.. more than what I’ve got. Than what I’m getting. It can’t be halfsies. It can’t be this. I can’t _do_ this. I.. I can’t. It isn’t in me to do this without it breaking my heart, Jane.”

            That was decidedly more sensible than she’d been previously. It was progress, the older woman thought with a sigh. She didn’t say anything as Cassandra brushed by, laptop forgotten on the table. Jane had heard the girl’s rushed beginning at packing. Glancing at the clock, she wondered if he’d get there in time – or if she’d end up having to lock her protégé into a room to make that conversation happen.

            Jane groaned. When did romance get so damn _dramatic?_

            Leaving Jane behind, Cassie trekked through the apartment with every intention of returning to her packing. While calm resignation had settled over her for a period of time the words she exchanged with her friend only brought up the nervous roiling of her stomach again. She pressed a hand to the base of her throat.

            _Not again,_ Cass thought in despair. _Please, not again._

            Despite her best efforts she only managed to get to the bathroom and kick the door mostly shut behind her before she crashed down to her knees in front of the toilet, heaving again. Tears trickled down her face as she shut her eyes. The blackness was an attempt to escape the place she found herself in. Nothing could remove her from the truth, though – and it was the truth that chased her so rigorously.

            Silence descended over the apartment. Jane had retreated to her own room while Cassie stayed in the bathroom. No one heard the quiet rap at the door. The bell never rang.

            Noting that the door had been left unlocked, Tom carefully pushed his way into the home. That oppressive quiet greeted him with hostility. “Jane?” He called, voice projecting though not loudly. “Cassie?”

            There was no answer.

            His first stop was the kitchen. Cassandra’s laptop was a familiar sight, though it wasn’t up and could give him no indications of what was going on. Far more telling were the newspapers that were still mostly spread about in disarray. While they had been removed from the floor, they remained scattered over the countertop. He stopped over them, looking down.

            The most incriminating of them all, the one that addressed Cassandra by name, was on top. Scanning it briefly, Tom’s fist slammed down on the marble in a barely contained gesture of temper. “Damn,” he hissed, pivoting about on a foot.

            His strides were more hurried now, more desperate. The man made straight for Cass’s room. Even from the hall he could see that she wasn’t in there. The door was wide open, and offered a clear view of the catastrophe that had been made of it. Her luggage was shoved to the brim with various articles of clothing. Other necessary things were strewn about on her bed. _She had been packing._

            It was a punch in the gut and one that nearly staggered Tom. If it was still here, though, he thought with a brief flutter of desperate hope, it meant that _she_ was still here. But where?

            Sounds from the bathroom just off the hall drew his attention. He had missed it when he strode by but now that the silence was resounding painfully through his heart even the smallest of noises was a palpable disturbance. He backed out of Cassie’s room and turned, walking back down the hall.

            The bathroom door was closed but not all the way. It remained cracked, unlatched. The sounds within were unmistakably that of someone being ill.

            “Cass?” He ventured quietly. “Cassie? Are you alright?”

            From inside, Cassandra froze. Her eyes stayed shut as she huddled on the cold tile. Despite the ache in her knees she had no ambition to move. She had no ambition to speak. She realized that, if she could she would have just drifted away to sleep where no one could reach her. She didn’t respond.

            “Darling?” Tom pressed again, this time rapping slightly on the door.

            No reply.

            “Cassie, I’m coming in.”

            Even that evoked no response from the blonde, hunched over the toilet. As he entered it only took Tom a moment to assess things. Tears wetted her cheeks. Her hair had been pulled back into a scraggly braid from which tendrils were escaping and seeking to fall back in front of her shoulders. Her eyes were shut and her skin terrifyingly pale. She was shaking, he saw.

            He ran a hand roughly through his hair in distress. The glass on the counter along with the washcloth indicated that Jane, at least, had borne witness to part of this. It explained the furious message on his phone, at least.

            Without another word Tom left the bathroom.

            Hearing his receding footsteps Cassie nearly straightened in shock. In confusion. In god-knows-what, really. It would have been a wasted endeavor. Instead, she only took the moment to flush the toilet.

            It wasn’t time to get up yet, though. Shifting to lean against the edge of the bathtub beside it, Cass rested an arm on the tub’s edge. Her cheek was pillowed against her own limb. She was _tired,_ she realized.

            So tired. Painfully so.

            Keeping her eyes shut Cassandra dedicated long seconds to breathing slowly. Her heart still raced and anxiety roiled her stomach but she fought to keep it under control. Whether it was cold or emotions that kept her body shaking, she couldn’t say.

            When Tom returned, she still didn’t open her eyes. Still didn’t look at him. Huddled so smally on the floor, he felt his heart lurch guiltily. Unfolding the blanket he had pulled off of the couch, he knelt down beside the woman. Draping it over her shoulders lightly, he tucked it around her as best he could.

            “Oh, Cass,” he breathed quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

            _Sorry?_ He didn’t even know what he should be sorry _for,_ Cassandra thought sharply.

            On the heels of that thought her eyes opened, looking at him. Emotions had made him haggard, taut with concern. He had stayed on the ground, rocking back on his heels to remain beside her.

            “No,” she replied even more softly. “It isn’t your fault. I was.. I was just.. No. No, Tom. It’s not your fault.”

            He laughed, though it wasn’t a happy sound. Carefully, so carefully, his arm reached out to settle around Cass’s waist. It was a slow gesture, giving her every excuse to tense or pull away if she wished. When she didn’t he curled around her carefully. His free hand reached up to smooth down her hair, brushing the wayward strands back into line.

            “Stop trying to take the blame for something that isn’t yours to own.” He exhaled raggedly. “I know. I know, we’ve brought it up. Luke did. I did. You knew. The pictures.. I know you knew. But what’s happening is.. it’s different.”

            It was more than pictures. They both knew that. Even though it was jarring to see photographs of their days out that had been meant to be _theirs_ that wasn’t the issue. It was the words. It had been the stories. The responses.

            She tried to choke back a sob. Tom knew better. His hand settled gently on her head, curving protectively around it as he pulled her closer into his torso. “I should have warned you about it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t _thinking_ , damn me for a fool.. I wasn’t.. I just wasn’t thinking, Cass. I got caught up in this. Us.”

            Here she found her spine. It was slow, and only came in increments. However strength slowly beat back the choking anxiety that had set in so strongly what seemed like a lifetime ago. “That’s just it,” she told him dully. “ _Us._ It’s a joke. Us. Like there’s something. How can _they_ write about an us when I don’t even know what it is?”

            There was no strong inflection when she spoke. There was no rise in emotion. But those words were the hardest to say that she had ever encountered.

            It seemed that they were equally hard to listen to.

            Stunned silence beset them. Cassandra focused on breathing steadily, trying to keep the anxiety, the panic, the nausea all at bay. She was only succeeding in part. The longer that quiet settled between them, the harder it became.

            “You were leaving,” Tom stated, wonderingly. “You were going to _go._ ”

            She nodded, wordlessly.

            “Because of…this?”

            Cass nodded again.

            “ _Why?!_ ” Inflection of temper crept into his voice at the demand. Tom’s features were more than angry, she thought. There was distress. And there was hurt.

            It was only compounded as she stiffened, carefully pulling herself out of his arms and his touch.

            “Because I can’t _do_ this anymore, Tom!” Her voice rose sharply, nearly crying out the admission. “I can’t keep pretending this-I don’t even know what it is! We sleep together, and we go out, but what _are_ we? Is there any expectation for anything? Or will you walk? Should I put my hopes in this, Tom?! _Can_ I?”

            Silence fell between them again. His hands curled, as if he were fighting the instinct to reach out, to hold her hand, to curve an arm around her, to touch her _somehow._ The inches between them now though, were a chasm that neither could bridge on their own.

            “I’ve made a terrible mess of this.”

            Cassandra was stiff, her shoulders drawn up defensively under the blanket. Her eyes watched him warily.

            “Cass,” he began again, “I’ve made a mess of this. I hadn’t.. Damn, I hadn’t realized. I didn’t know, Cassie.” His voice was thick with emotion. Tom’s fingers drummed anxiously against thigh as he struggled for the words.

            “I saw you at that dinner and I knew it was something. It didn’t _just_ happen then, though. It was more than that. Over time I’ve seen your personality, that I adore so much, shining through your eyes. You fuss with your appearance, turning into the most beautiful girl in the world. It’s not about appearance. It’s about your beautiful, amazing, wonderful, fantastic personality, and I see it every time I look at you. It’s that I look in your eyes, and I feel home. I forget my problems, my fears. I’m safe. I’ve found a place where I can belong. A place where I can spend an eternity.”

            Cass wondered if he could see her heart bounding. It felt like it had risen up in her throat, threatening to choke her of air, of breath, of life. A vice around her lungs only tightened as his words sorted themselves out. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

            “If I haven’t made it clear to you, then I’m a fool. I’m one anyway for not having _said_ it. Stay with me, Cass. Be with me. Be mine, and I’ll be yours, as best as we’re both able. Let there be us.”

            Not being able to think was a damnable inconvenience. All she wanted to do was cry _yes,_ open her arms and fling them around his shoulders and fall back into his embrace. It would all fade away. All of this would disappear.

            Except it wouldn’t.

            Rationality reared its head.

            Cassandra shut her eyes. She bowed her head. Drawing her fingers around the edges of the blanket, she drew them more closely around her as she started shivering again.

            “Cassie? Darling?”

            She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. Time.. Time! She needed _time_. But there was none, not here. Not with both of them as equal as they’d ever been, as _bare_ as they had ever been.

            “How do we make it different? What we were before…I adored it, Tom. I won’t lie. But I need more than that. And if we can’t have it, it’s not fair to either of us to try.”

            She could hear his fingers nervously drumming against the fabric over his thigh. She heard him exhale heavily, routed by her practicality. She heard him shuffle, the soles of his shoes sliding along the tile floor.

            “Move in with me,” Tom proposed quietly. “You spend time there anyway. We needn’t be joined at the hip.. but there can be an us. We can try an _us._ You’ll have your day and I’ll have my day but then we can still have it together. And we can try this, and us, for real. You matter to me, Cass. Please. I want this. I _want_ this.”

            Any particularly determined thought process fled with his proposition. Her eyes shot open as her spine straightened. Looking up at him incredulously, she blinked.

            Going from ending it, leaving.. to that? A hand crept out of the folds of the blanket to scrub wearily at her cheeks. Dried tears had textured the skin uncomfortably. The nervous gesture didn’t buy the time necessary to process.

            “And… the people? Tom, I.. I don’t know how to cope with that. The people. The things they’re saying.. it’s-“

            “Terrible,” he agreed quietly, his hand stilling to press flat over his thigh. It was an unconscious gesture as he tried to smooth away the nervousness. “What people are saying are horrible. But we can manage it, because we – us – it matters. We’ll give Luke a ring and see what he’s got to suggest. But it’ll come up in an interview, and I’ll be straight about it. And if Luke thinks it’s a good idea, we can find a contact for one of your friends to get in contact with. Any anonymous source is as good as another. They can tell stories of _you._ The real you. The you that I adore, Cass.”

            _We can do this._

            We can make this work.

            For the first time since she had seen the photograph in the Sunday paper her world stopped reeling. The overwhelming sensation of having to confront all of it head on had abated. Breaking the issue down into manageable sizes made it less daunting. Made it.. made it better. But the truth, Cassandra thought as her eyes locked onto his, was that she wanted to try, too.

            She _wanted_ this.

            Reaching out, she tucked her hand over his that he had pressed against his upper thigh. “Yes,” she stated quietly.

            Tom looked at her with a mixture of incredible hope and pained uncertainty. “Yes _what?_ ”

            “To all of it,” Cassie replied. “To this. Us. Moving. Luke. Any of it.. I.. I didn’t know what to do. And instead of asking for help I was going to bail on something that mattered. But I don’t. I want this. I want us.”

            He turned his hand underneath hers so he could curl his fingers around her wrist. The smile on his features was breathtaking. Pulling her closely against him, Tom’s other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. “Oh, darling,” he breathed softly.

            “Before you go any further,” Jane remarked acidly from the door, “Cass? Get a brain. Don’t look yourself up on the internet. And congratulations on getting this sorted. Shut the door next time, morons.”

            Embracing her tightly, Tom’s forehead had come to rest against Cassandra’s in the midst of Jane’s succinct lecture. As the older woman turned to leave (and pointedly pulled the door shut with a _click_ behind her) he chuckled in baffled amusement. Cassie returned the sound although she seemed even more puzzled.

            “Tom?”

            He tightened his arm around her waist in a comforting squeeze. “What is it, sweetheart?”

            “Why _did_ you come?”

            Unbridled curiosity was rampant in her tone. He rocked back, pulling her with him. She ended up neatly sprawled in his lap as he rested his shoulders against the wall.

            “Eheh,” he chuckled uneasily. “I, er, got a call. From Jane. She told me there was a problem.”

            Cassandra remained quiet for a moment, her eyes boring holes through the door that Jane had just shut. “Dirty rotten traitor,” she proclaimed after a moment.

            “Oh I don’t know,” Tom murmured. He brushed his nose lightly against her cheek. “I find that I rather like having her on my side.”  
            “Damn Benedict Arnold. Of course she had to defect to the other side. So much for loyalty!”

            Tom laughed outright this time. “Darling, I don’t know if you’re one to talk about loyalty. I think there’s an entirely valid argument to be made for you having switched allegiance as well.”

            Cass was silent at that. Mulling over the options, she giggled slightly, heart lighter now. “Oh well,” she replied pragmatically. “English history is more fun. You have crazy monarchs, anyway.”

            She could feel his chest shake with laughter where she was pressed against it. Letting her eyes shut for a moment, her lips curved into a content smile. _This_ was it. _This_ was right. _This_ was worth it.

            Tom shifted as he carefully stood, making certain not to dump her on the floor as he did so. With one arm firmly around her waist and another cupping under her elbow he managed to support her as she found herself on her feet as well. Even her fatigued body had no problems standing at that point.

            “Are you alright?”

            Cass was quiet at the question. Silently she assessed herself. Her heart was still quick, although she blamed that on his presence. Her breathing had slowed. She was no longer lightheaded. Nausea was ebbing away.

            Wrapping her arm around his own waist she leaned her head against his shoulder as he reached out to open the bathroom door. “Yes,” Cassie replied quietly. “Not perfect. But getting there.”

            He seemed content with that answer as he made to navigate them both out of the room. She latched onto the doorframe as they passed. “Wait!”

            Tom froze, looking down at her. She untangled her arm from around him. “You can go talk to Jane. I’ll be a moment.”

            His quizzical look was telling.

            “You,” Cassandra repeated emphatically, “will go speak with The Betrayer. _I_ am going to wash my face. And.. uh, brush my teeth. Among other things.” Like returning to her humanity.

            Coming to an abrupt understanding, Tom’s head tilted back as he laughed. “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll go speak with my Lord and Master. Though if you leave me to her tender mercies for _too_ long I will come back and find you. Don’t think I won’t.”

            She brushed her fingertips fondly against the back of his hand as she stepped back into the bathroom. “Counting on it,” Cassie murmured quietly, shutting the door.

            Tom looked at closed door for a moment longer. “You always can,” he replied lowly, before turning to go converse with Jane about what had happened. It wasn’t a conversation he was particularly looking forward to but his spirits were buoyed by the knowledge that everything seemed to be working out. Cassandra would move in with him, they would come up with a plan to make it apparent that it was _official.._ and, he found, that he was happy.

            Because he would count on her. And she could count on him.


	33. Measures of Worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place Friday, May 11, 2012.
> 
> Again, I apologize for the slightly different formatting. I may eventually go through and reformat it so the continuity is the same but for now, it seems completely readable! Beyond that: This chapter covers some actual in-class discussions that I've been involved with or witnessed. It may seem a little dry but I couldn't help myself. Feel free to skip that part of it if you're not really into politics/history. It doesn't really impact the story too much.

            Cassandra had only been filled with skepticism that morning as she shifted uneasily from foot to foot outside the high school. It had been nearly five months exactly since she had last taught. Furrowing her hand through her hair unsteadily, the woman seemed tormented with indecision. There wasn’t really a choice in it, she knew. She had already agreed.

            Scheduling was a funny thing. Tom had filming in _Detroit_ of all the places. Only a few hours south of her own hometown, there was no reason for the woman not to return and visit with her family. It had been a less than enthusiastic affair. Returning to her parents’ house on her own for the first time that Wednesday Joe Moore seemed less that impressed with the news his daughter had to give him. “Well,” he had scoffed, “We can do an early dinner on Friday. Bring him around then.” The underlying _and then we’ll see_ was unspoken but implicitly understood.

            She couldn’t escape the judgment in his gaze. Trying to shake it off, the woman had called around to her friends to let them, too, know that she was around for a period of time. News spread from there. Who had shared first Cassie would never know but when she received a call the day after from her old department head, the woman wanted to laugh.

            It was almost as if life had never changed. They were desperate for a substitute and, oh, couldn’t she _please_ just stop by and pick up one day of classes?

            Some incomprehensible compulsion provoked her into agreeing. And despite the anxiety that morning, Cassandra Moore found herself reveling in the sensation of being in front of a classroom again. The day had flown by. Glancing at the clock on the back wall she noted that they only had ten minutes left to the day before her current classroom, a smaller group of juniors and seniors, would be released for their weekend.

            Leaning back, she shifted to sit on the edge of her desk. Resting her hands on the fake wood surface she waited for the last student to put her pencil down from the assigned essay they had to complete. Once they were all turned in, she grinned at them all.

            “Alright then,” she began pleasantly. “Since it doesn’t really make any sense to try to fit something else in with less than ten minutes, we’ll just have fun until the bell. Sound good?”

            The vociferous agreement came as no surprise. Cassie just laughed. “Some rules, though. Stay on topic. History or global connections. Politics work. It’s an election year, and some of you are old enough to vote. Now’s a good time to start thinking about that. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves. I’m willing to answer questions.”

            Immediately one of her senior students sat up in his seat. “Who do you think will win the republican nomination?”

            Cass drummed her fingers against the edge of her desk. “Romney. Santorum might have had a chance if he had campaigned differently, but now that it’s just Mitt Romney and Ron Paul, it seems fairly likely that he’ll get the nomination.”

            “But isn’t he the one that talked about Detroit going bankrupt?”

            Now that was a more interesting question. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Folding her fingers together she let her chin settle on top of them.

            “That’s attributed to him, yes. It was in 2008, and he was speaking against the automotive bailouts by government. Can anyone tell me why he would say that?”

            A girl – a junior, Cass identified – tentatively raised her hand. Nodding in her direction, the older woman waited patiently.

            “Well, wasn’t that an election year too?” Cassandra nodded. “So could it have been a way to try to establish something for Republicans to set themselves apart? Like, they could campaign under the slogan that, maybe, they were going to spend less money?”

            “Excellent!” Cass’s hands parted briefly as she clapped once. “Yes, in 2008 there was another incredibly divisive election. President Obama ended up winning the presidential race against John McCain, although two years later even though Democrats maintained a Senate majority, the House of Representatives had a Republican majority largely, because people believed that the government had been inefficient in managing the financial crisis.”

            The first boy raised his hand again. Even before she indicated for him to speak, he continued. “So he _did_ say to let Detroit go bankrupt?”

            Cassie sighed, and shifted her hand in a “so-so” gesture. “It’s a little murkier than that, but he did effectively say that the government should let the automotive industry to into debt. The precedent set by a government bailout would be damaging was the argument, along with the fact that it would ruin the car industry as a whole. So, can anyone tell me what that would mean for America if that had happened?”

            Another boy looked up from where he had, she thought, been doodling in his notebook. “Baaad,” he muttered under his breath. Cass laughed at the way he had put it.

            “Go on. How would it be bad?”

            “We’re the _rust belt,_ ” he said emphatically as if it should have been obvious.

            Another girl took over. “We’re a part of the greater Detroit area. It’s all the industry here! And in Ohio, too. Like.. if the industry had gone bankrupt then our economy would’ve collapsed.”

            A simplified version of it, Cass thought, but close enough. “How many of you have parents or family members in the automotive industry? Go ahead – raise your hands.”

            More than a third of the class did so. It was no surprise. Nodding to those students, she indicated they could put their arms down again. “The car industry runs this part of the country. Factories give jobs, and those jobs make for a steady economy because with the money they make, they buy other goods and services which gives other people job stability. That’s more an economics class, though. But the problem at that point was that no one had ever thought of the government owning private property. It sort of strikes of Kings and Emperors, where they owned multiple grounds and could tax their private holdings for income. It was a political conundrum that faced our government at that point, much like the bank bailouts.”

            “But it _worked,_ didn’t it?” Another boy seemed inclined to point that out.

            “Well, the economy has stabilized. We’re not in a tail-spin depression, so I suppose you could make the argument that it worked. Countries in depressions do desperate things – can anyone tell me another one in the twentieth century _not_ in the United States that led to global upheaval?”

            Hands had gone up though they quickly fell as she stipulated it couldn’t be America.

            Finally, a timid voice from the side of the classroom answered. “Germany.”

            Cassandra turned her attention to the small girl and nodded encouragingly. “Go on. Do you know more about it?”

            “Well,” she began, uncertain. “Like.. after the first World War, a bunch of the winners made Germany pay for everything.. but they couldn’t.” Cass nodded, verifying the information. “So their country got really depressed. They couldn’t buy anything. I guess their.. their currency was basically worthless?” Cassandra nodded again. “So, because they were.. like, they were really desperate because their country was in such bad shape, they ended up with some really extreme politics.”

            “The politics,” Cass concluded, “that led to the National Socialist German Workers Party. Can anyone tell me why that’s important?”

            “Hitler!” Another boy exclaimed.

            She nodded. “Correct. Desperate people, in desperate times, turn to desperate measures. Germany needed _hope_ in the aftermath of World War One. Their society was suffering and there didn’t seem to be any way for them to escape those terrible straights. It meant that the radical politics that came out of that era were more palatable, because they offered so many people the belief that they could escape the hole they had been caught in, through no fault of their own.”

            “But they caused the first World War!”

            Cassie shook her head. “Ultra-nationalism caused World War One, along with world-wide global tensions and a series of attachments to other countries. Europe was essentially a powder keg waiting to spark. When the Archduke was assassinated, that provided the ignition that the region needed. Many historians agree that even if Franz Ferdinand hadn't been assassinated, World War One still would have started, just with a different catalyst.”

            “How could that-?” The question was cut off by the bell.

            Students sat up in their seats, startled. Some of them effectively bolted for the door, having anticipated the sound. Others found themselves lingering, having been distracted by the exchange that the classroom had been having. Cassandra waved to them all.

            “Happy Friday, everyone. Have a lovely weekend. If you’d like to know more about any of the things we talked about today that was off-curriculum, I’m sure your teacher can give you some further details. If you’d like, ask her to contact me and I can give her a reading list that talks about several of these things.”

            She didn’t necessarily have much _hope_ for that happening, but it was still worth it. While most of the students filed out of the classroom, Cass made to rise from her seat on the edge of the desk. The movement was stayed by a small girl standing in front of her.

            It was the girl who had spoken about Germany’s economic depression. Even her stance now, in the nearly empty classroom, was timid. Cass looked at her with inquisitive, bright eyes. The girl – Angela, if she remembered from the class roster – ducked her gaze away for a moment, shyly.

            “Er,” she began awkwardly. “I just.. I just wanted to say thank you, Ms. Moore. It was a good class today.”

            Cassandra smiled kindly. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you had fun. It was a wonderful class to teach. Thank you for giving me that.”

            Surprised by the thanks in turn, Angela turned to bolt out of the room. Not looking in that direction even as she heard the girl squeak in surprise, Cass slid off the desk to stand on the floor again. Reaching down to pick up the bag that had the papers necessary to manage the classroom for the day, she left the necessary files on the teacher’s desk, while making certain none of her own would be left behind.

            “Well,” a familiar voice drawled from behind her, “that was very enlightening, Ms. Moore.”

            Only barely keeping her bag in her hands Cassie wheeled around to stare in shock at Tom who was standing just inside the doorway. A visitor’s nametag was pressed on the left side of his chest. She blinked in shock.

            “How long have you _been there?_ ”

            “I caught the end of frantically writing students and a very bizarre conversation that went from America’s election, to economics, to Germany, to World War One. How much do you _have_ in your head, anyway?”

            Cass laughed, shrugging on her leather coat as she walked over to him. Wrapping an arm around his waist she leaned into the side as he reached down to embrace her with one arm. “A frightening number of facts, a slew of clever ideas and various concepts for mischief which, I’ll add, I’m not sharing with you.”

            “Oh?”  
            “No,” she replied laughingly, as they exited the classroom, the woman pausing to lock it behind her. “I’ll inflict them on you instead.”

            He chuckled, squeezing her more tightly for a moment. “Darling, make that a promise and I’m sure I’ll be thrilled.”

            They exited the school side by side. The disconcerting sensation of students freezing to look at the now-familiar man, given The Avengers’ worldwide release that occurred the week before was one that Cassandra discarded. As she bounced down the steps to the high school, she grinned at him. Tom only smiled in return.

            “I’ve never seen you like that, you know,” he remarked unexpectedly. Her confused look only evoked another smile. “Teaching. You’re so.. you’re so _alive._ It isn’t education by rote or recitation. You’re engaged with what you teach, and who you teach it to. It’s lovely to see.”

            She lifted a shoulder in an awkward shrug. How could she give thanks for a compliment that was something that it was only _right_ to do? “They make it easy,” Cassie replied at last. “Many of them _want_ to learn. They just aren’t given the opportunity to realize it. They enjoy the opportunity I give them, and I love them for giving me the chance to give it to them.”

            The conversation might have grown stilted at that point, had he not released her waist to squeeze her hand instead. “Who drives?”

            Cassandra hissed out an epithet. It would take an hour to get to where her father had reserved a table _for drinks._ And appetizers. Why they couldn’t just have dinner like normal people was still beyond her. “..how did you get here if you didn’t drive?”

            Tom waved his free hand airly. “Someone dropped me off. Filming was done earlier than I expected. I thought I’d stop by and surprise you. You can tell me all about your father on the way.”

            Cass ducked into the driver’s seat of her car, effectively answering who would be behind the steering wheel. As Tom entered the passengers’ side, she reached around to put her bag in back, sighing grimly. “My father is easy,” she replied dully.

            “Oh, lovely,” Tom offered sardonically. “Easy is good.”

            “Yeah. Until you realize that by easy, I mean it’s easiest to just accept that he’s not going to accept anything I’ve got to say and he’ll probably not be fond of you, either. Don’t be insulted.”

            “So optimistic.”

            Exiting the parking lot and heading towards the freeway that would get them there quickly, Cassandra only sighed. “You’ll see,” she concluded grimly. “Just.. don’t let him get to you, alright?”

            Cass couldn’t find the words to tell him that she _needed_ him to be alright with it, because there was no way that she would ever be.

 

* * *

  

          Cassie wished she had the time to linger uneasily at the door of the restaurant. All of the sudden her pressed, grey pinstripe slacks and navy blouse didn’t seem nearly formal enough. The gilded lighting even on the exterior was daunting. Shrugging her shoulders she felt the comfortable press of her mother’s Christmas gift settle around her back more tightly. Armor. It was armor. The memories were.

            Tom looked down at her in concern as she inhaled unsteadily. “Well,” she offered crookedly, “I suppose it’s too late to back out now.”

            He offered a hand to her. Folding her fingers around his, Cassandra found that the warmth of his palm was comforting. It couldn’t chase away the insecurity but it gave her the strength to step into the restaurant. Her chin tilted up as she edged more closely against Tom’s side.

            The hostess looked up at the tall couple as they entered. “We’re meeting someone,” Tom replied fluidly to her inquiry. “Reservations should be under Joe Moore.”

            “Oh!” She exclaimed, straightening. “Yes. He’s already arrived so I’ll seat you both right away. Would you like to check your coats?”

            “ _No,_ ” Cass replied emphatically. Keeping her keys in her pocket and her purse on her person made it so that she could flee the building without any delay if it came to it. As if recognizing where her train of thought had gone with that, Tom looked down at her with a wry grin. However he, too, kept his own jacket.

            _You might think I’m insane,_ her expression told him, _but you’ll understand soon enough._

            Following the hostess into the depths of the restaurant she felt Tom reach forward to rest a hand around hers as they walked. “It will be alright,” he soothed softly in low tones. “Darling, there’s nothing he can say that will change what we are.”

            More than anything that had been the answer that Cassandra had needed to hear. No words that Joe could spit out would sway her mind. He had failed years ago when she had elected to go into teaching. He hadn’t convinced her into believing that leaving Richard was a mistake. This would be another moment on a long list of conflicts that ultimately meant nothing.

            Cass tilted her chin up, face brittle and falsely bright as she recognized her father’s figure at a table in front of them. “Dad,” she greeted coolly as she squeezed tightly at Tom’s hand before sitting. She noted that Tom sat beside her, the long length of his thigh pressing against hers. The proximity was comforting.

            “It’s good to see you again.” Lies. “I’m glad you had the time for us.” Lies. “I’m happy you’ll have the opportunity to meet Tom!” ..Partly a lie? She turned slightly in her chair to keep both men in her sights. “Dad, this is Tom – Tom Hiddleston. Tom, my father. Joseph Moore.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tom replied easily. The brief handclasp between them lacked any enthusiasm.

            Joe only hm’d a reply, settling back into his chair to look at the Englishman. Blessedly they were briefly interrupted by a waiter. The order of a Guinness for Tom and a Manhattan for Cass was only a temporary stall.

            “So,” Joseph commented repressively. “This is whose supporting you now that you’ve gone off on a new lark and quit your job.”

            They were going straight for the big guns. Cassandra’s fingers flexed and she wished that her drink had already arrived. The liquor would take the edge off of her roiling sentiments. Beneath the tablecloth she felt Tom’s hand settle on her leg comfortingly. It didn’t help.

            “No,” Cass replied levelly. “I’m supporting myself with my own money while I finish my Doctorate’s, Dad.” Her voice was tight. If this was how they were going to begin maybe it would have been best to find a reason – any reason at all – to cry off.

            Too late now.

            “And you’re some sort of.. actor?” Joe’s gimlet stare was now focused on Tom.

            The Englishman’s affable nature seemed hardly perturbed by the older man. No mater how pointed Cassandra’s father was being Tom’s easygoing disposition was serving him well. “As long as they’ll have me,” he replied with a light smile. “I would do it even if it were just a man and his dog watching. I’ve been blessed to have fans, however. We should all be so lucky.”

            Joseph grunted. Briefly, Cass blessed the fact that he didn’t _know_ how educated Tom was. That would have opened up an entirely different kettle of conflict.

            “I don’t know,” she interjected lightly, trying to keep the levity from stalling. “I don’t think I should like fans very much. They’re so curious about your life!”

            Tom made to reply, clearly comprehending what it was that Cassandra was endeavoring to do. However, her father’s decisive swirl of his drink (the ice cubes jangling against the glass) stayed them both. Joe had scoffed at his daughter. “Just as well,” he muttered. “Can’t see why you’d ever think about fans, anyway. Not as if you’d have them.”

            That was a blow well placed, Cassie acknowledged. She didn’t flinch back from the words, though. Instead she buried them deep within her heart to mull over, later. On the heels of the comment she made to reply, attempting to push the conversational tack in another direction.

            “I beg to differ,” Tom interjected smoothly. The hand on her thigh smoothed lightly over the material of her pinstripe slacks. “Her classroom seems to love her very much. What better fans than those you give of yourself to?” He squeezed over her knee gently, turning a fond look in her direction. “ _I_ can be your fan.”

            She rested a hand over his, lightly brushing her fingertips against the back of his hand. It was a comfortably fond gesture. Even if Cass couldn’t truly thank him for it, she knew he would understand.

            “Good,” she replied lightly. “Then I won’t feel like a fool for being yours! It being one sided might have been a touch awkward.”

            Joseph rolled his eyes at her, shifting back as the waiter returned to the table with drinks – and damn, Cassandra thought, she was now committed to staying at least through one drink – and a plate of appetizers that her father must have ordered.

            “Cassie, you never needed help with either of those things.” The comment seemed likely to go un-expounded on as he began eating one of the shrimp on the platter. “You’re fool enough as it is. Teaching? Really?”

            Her face tightened both at the criticism and at the food. Tom leaned over slightly, voice low in her ear. “Would you like to order something else as well?”

            She shook her head, fingers curling around his where they still rested on her leg. “It’s alright,” she replied softly. “We can have dinner later.”

            Engrossed in his food briefly as he had been, Joe noted the lack of reply and looked up. “No argument tonight?”

            Cassandra smiled politely at him. “I’d really rather not argue,” she remarked. “It’s a beautiful evening, dad. And I don’t know when it’ll work out that we’d all be in the same place together. I had hoped that you’d have the chance to meet Tom.” _So you could know that I’m not making a complete mistake with my life._

            Joseph grunted. “An english actor. Really, Cass? You couldn’t stay with Rich because of _this?_ He had a steady job!”

            Tom’s expression was equally untelling. Thoroughly abandoning the idea of staying long Cassie settled back into the chair, glass firmly clutched in her hand. It was already more than halfway completed. My own father, she thought darkly. My own father is driving me to drink. Tightening her jaw to prevent herself from snapping out any of the acidic words that would only escalate the confrontation, she looked over at Tom.

            “Richard. You met him. Hospital room. He was in accounting and,” here she shifted her pointed stare to her father, “almost more interested in my family’s connections than myself. So yes. I couldn’t stay with Richard. Because I’d rather have someone elect to be with me because they _like_ me, not because they’re trying to groom me into my family image.”

            “This isn’t going to change simply because you don’t like it.” Tom’s quieter voice brought silence down over the table. “Whether you elect to be pleased about it or not, I _am_ with your daughter, Joseph. That’s our business.”

            “Like hell,” the Moore family patriarch snapped, straightening in his own seat. “My daughter. My business.”

            “Poor business practice,” Cass hissed, temper finally unleashing. “A little late to care now, Dad. Bit like closing the barn door after the horses have bolted. Because, you know, it might have been _nice_ to see you while I was in the hospital. Just once. Or a reply to my emails. Any reply. You don’t _get_ to have an opinion about what I do with my life now, because you were never a part of it!”

            She was so tense she was nearly trembling. Tom could feel it underneath his palm as it rested on her thigh. His acute gaze had settled on her during her words. Despite the fact that she had never raised her voice, the thick emotion that drove the dialogue was readily apparent. Tom’s free hand reached out to carefully pull the glass away from the blonde, setting it on the table.

            After, he turned to look at Joe, features pressed into a polite expression. “Pleased to meet you, Joe.” The legs of his chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’ve been busy as well.”

            Cass felt the light press of his fingers under her elbow, coaxing her to stand as he pulled her chair back as well. Numbly she rose alongside Tom. “Maybe we can try this again sometime.”

            And on that parting sally, his arm curled around her waist, guiding her comfortably back towards the door. Cassandra’s spine remained rigid, chin frozen in the inclined position and her expression, haughty. Only Tom could recognize the glassy look in her eyes as something close to numbness, something nearer to shock. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss against her cheek.

            “I hadn’t realized,” he murmured lowly as the cooler evening air hit them. “I’m sorry.”

            Cassie laughed. It was a brittle sound, although still an attempted expression of humor. “No,” she demurred. “No. It’s alright. That’s just.. what he does.”

            His arm around her waist pulled her to a stop. His other hand reached out to curl around her back, swinging her tightly into a hug. She let her cheek curl into the crook of his neck. Pressed against his chest, her own arms looped loosely around his waist, she felt the tension in her body ebb.

            “You’re fantastic.” Tom spoke softly to the crown of her head, his breath warm puffs of air. “You’re so giving. So _compassionate._ It’s amazing. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to meet you.”

            For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Cass let the sting of her father’s criticisms show. Tears trickled down her cheeks as they stood there in the evening light. Encircled by his figure, she felt that she had the opportunity, if just for the moment, to be _safe._

            “If he can’t understand,” Tom continued quietly, “that’s his loss. You’re amazing, darling. Don’t believe what he’s got to say. Some people just don’t understand.”

            She laughed. It was a watery sound, but it was still laughter and therefore, an improvement. Smoothing her hand up the back of his tailored coat, Cassie took half a step back. Letting her go for the most part, he let a hand stay resting over her hip. She straightened, looking up at him with a wry smile.

            Pulling her keys out of her pocket, she offered them to Tom. “Interested in driving?”

            Tom laughed in return.

            “No, seriously,” she continued sardonically. “That drink on an empty stomach will do no one any good.”

            “Clearly a plea for dinner if ever there was.” Tom chuckled at Cass, his retort lightly humorous. She nodded in return.

            However, Cassandra’s features quickly adopted an expression of contemplation. As Tom took the keys from her she edged back more closely to his side. “Where’re we staying tonight? Detroit? I don’t know your schedule for tomorrow, actually… If we’re there for the evening we might just want to go back south now and eat later?”

            He smoothed a hand over her hair. “Stop trying to take care of others,” he murmured fondly. “It’s your turn tonight.”

            They ducked into the car, Tom taking a moment to acclimate himself to being on the left side of the car and the right side of the road. “Though my filming tomorrow doesn’t happen until late afternoon. We can stay in town here for the night. It’ll be easier. So we can go straight to dinner.”

            Cassie slid lower down into the passenger’s seat, letting her eyes slide shut. “Good to know,” she replied easily.

            “Cass?”

            Her eyes opened again and looked in is direction. The sunglasses disguised the fact that his own intent gaze was locked on her but somehow she knew regardless.

            “I meant it.” A pause. “You really are amazing, darling.”

            He reached over to link his fingers through hers, leaving his left hand on the steering wheel. She let her hand be laced with his, finding comfort in the familiar touch. Squeezing his fingers gently, Cass’s eyes turned out to gaze at the road rolling out in front of them.

            “So are you, Tom,” she replied quietly. “So are you.”


	34. Promise Me This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday May 15, 2012.
> 
> Final apology for odd formatting! There's actually only one chapter to go before this story is finished. It's in the process of being written now. For those of you who have just stumbled upon this chapter, 31-34 have all been posted in the past 12 hours so make sure you haven't missed anything!

            The muted buzz of her phone on the bedside table was the sound that first provoked Cassandra into stirring. Her eyes parted as she stared over to the digital clock that shone unrelentingly in the pre-dawn grey. Five thirty.. it was not a time that she _wanted_ to be awake, but it would have to do. Reaching over to swipe her finger over the interface of her phone the woman slowly sat up in bed.

            Looking over at Tom’s resting figure, her lips curved into a slight smile. It was altogether normal for him to rise before her. He had returned late the night before Cass thought fondly. No wonder he was still asleep.

            Carefully moving her legs over to put her bare feet on the floor, she quietly navigated the dim parameters of the bedroom. Her clothes were where she had laid them out the evening prior. Pulling clothing on over her bare figure, it was only after she had ducked into the bathroom and shut the door did she switch on the light. Looking at her reflection in the mirror Cassandra paused.

            She looked.. grim. Haggard. She looked as if she knew what she was about to do, and dreaded every moment of it.

            Sighing, Cassie brushed a hand through her hair to swipe it out of her face. Five minutes, a comb and a toothbrush later, she switched the light off and carefully slipped out onto the misty road. The morning would dawn bright and clear within the hour, she thought. For now, though, everything was dampered with the quiet hush of the mist and expectation.

            The walk through the neighborhood was eerie. The steps she took were familiar, although the path, largely unknown to her. Not even the slamming of car doors or the sound of garages opening and closing could disturb her from the reverie of her mind. The longer she walked, the slower the steps came.

            Only when she could slow no further did Cassandra acknowledge what she was doing. Jamming her fingers into the pockets of her jeans, she stopped to look at where her trek down the sidewalk – more than a mile by this point – had taken her. The sun glimmered in the sharp cut of morning light, but it was eased by the mist that hadn’t quite dissipated. Instead, as sunlight caught in the dew and was refracted back, something surreal about it all beset Cass’s consciousness.

            Able to put it off no further, Cassie stepped forward and shouldered open the gate that she had stopped in front of. Even from the road it was evident where she had come to. The wrought iron perimeter fence or the arching banner over the driveway were characteristic, but most telling were the headstones, scattered throughout the cemetery.

            A vice tightened around her lungs as she continued to walk forward.

            ‘ _Stupid,_ ’ a voice chided her harshly from her mind.

            ‘ _Ridiculous,_ ’ another agreed.

            _I wasn’t ready for this._

            But if she turned back now, Cassandra was haunted by the thought that she would never have the courage to return. To stop now would be the most profound of failures. The most shaming.

            She heard the skreetch of the gate behind her, clanging as it banged shut without a hand to ease it closed.

            The sound was enough to goad Cassie forward. Shivering, she managed to inhale shakily. Diverging from the manicured path through the graveyard, Cass found that her feet brought her forward even when her mind was railing, emotions askew and demanding to turn around.

            It was too late to make that choice.

            Looking at the painfully bright, stark marble headstone against the greening grass, Cassandra reached a trembling hand out to brush her shaking fingers against it.

_Susan Moore_

_July 3, 1955 – January 8, 2012_

_Beloved daughter, wife, mother._

_Until we meet again._

            The words cut just as deeply now as they had when she had seen them first. Letting her hand fall to her side, Cassandra lowered herself to her knees in the ground beside her mother’s grave.

            Her _mother._ Susan, who always laughed. Always smiled, who always _loved._ Her mother, who had wanted to be unfettered in death, now bound to a grave that couldn’t come close to offering a facsimile of the woman she had been.

            It was cold here, Cass thought as emotions slowly receded from their high. It was too empty. Too barren.

            “I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered quietly, fingers twining and twisting about one another as she settled her hands in her lap. “I didn’t know. I would have brought something..”

            Cassandra paused, tears trickling down her cheeks. “Although you always hated cut flowers.” The watery laugh was more of a gasp, as humor and fond memories combatted grief. “Said it was a stupid thing to give someone who had lost something. Why give them more dead things?”

            She sniffed, swallowing thickly as she settled back to rest on her heels. The damp creeping up from the soil and the grass didn’t bother Cassie. Even as the denim covering her shins and knees hit the point of being thoroughly soaked, the blonde didn’t move.

            Cass bowed her head, a hand dropping to the grass beside her. Restlessly combing her fingers through the stems, the young woman sighed. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

            “I’m sorry. Sorry that you had to leave. That I couldn’t help you.”

            Breaking off a blade of grass with a nail, she absentmindedly shredded it. Looking down to see the green pieces, Cassandra sighed again. Shaking her hand free of the debris, she lifted her eyes to glance at the headstone.

            No. That wasn’t right.

            She turned her eyes to the solitary trees on the cemetery property. No. Not there, either. Not the dirt, not the stone. Not this place.

            Averting her gaze to look up at the sky, Cass didn’t even try to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

            “I’ll try. I’ll try to be happy, Mom. I’ll try.. for you. And for me.” She paused, her quiet voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’m ready yet, Mommy. I don’t know if I know _how._ ”

            Her voice cracked, breaking. The words stalled. Silence fell over the cemetery again as Cassie stared blankly up at the sky. Time had passed. The sun’s rising was burning away the mist and dew more rapidly, now. What had seemed a quiet, surreal isolated place to start now, she thought, seemed to be just another graveyard.

            What had been comforting had disappeared. But what had scared her, too, seemed to have abated. Cass exhaled slowly as she straightened.

            As her eyes settled back on the headstone Cassandra fought to blink away the tears again. Recognizing the fruitlessness of the task, she just shook her head. “There’s someone,” she offered quietly. “Someone who might show me, Mom. Show me _how._ You.. You would have liked him, I think.” Cass hiccupped, trying to repress the swell of emotions.

            “You would have liked his laugh.”

            She could say no more. Curling down over her thighs, she brought up her hands to wipe away the tears. When it was evident that she couldn’t quell the quiet sobs that way, Cassie rested her cheeks in her palms.

            How long the woman stayed like that she couldn’t have said.

            So far removed from the road and the sidewalk, all sounds of road traffic had dimmed and muted. The early morning bird sounds had faded away with the hour passing by. It was as good a place as any to be ensconced in her own melancholy.

            It was not a conscious thought, but an expectation: one that was doomed to failure in short order.

            There was a quiet _shush_ of material as it rustled around her. Seconds after, the warm weight of a coat was draped over her shoulders. A hand followed in quick succession, resting at the nape of her neck.

            Curled over her legs as she was Cassandra didn’t look up. She didn’t avert her eyes to see who it was. She didn’t need to. The leather jacket hanging around her that lingered in the edge of her peripheral eyesight was familiar. It was the smell, though – leather and something faintly spicy of men’s soap or cologne, that told her all she needed to know.

            Tom’s thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

            He asked no questions, made no demands.

            Slowly, the tall man descended into a crouch next to the prostrate woman. She couldn’t turn to meet his eyes, she thought, swallowing thickly. She didn’t need to. His hand drifted down around her waist, securing the sense that she was being held.

            Minutes passed.

            One of Cass’s hands drifted up to rest over Tom’s. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly.

            His fingers curled more tightly around her, squeezing slightly before releasing the pressure again. “No,” Tom replied quietly, looking down at the figure that was still huddled up. “Don’t apologize for this. You never had time to grieve.” He could feel her tremble beside him. His arm tightened around her. “Oh, darling,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I can’t make this better for you.”

            Her fingers traced lightly over his hand, absently investigating the length of his digits and the familiar dryness of his knuckles. The familiarity was more than comforting: it was stabilizing. Cassandra exhaled slowly before her figure began to straighten. She couldn’t make herself be eye level with the taller man, but as her gaze reluctantly turned to him, a slight smile overtook her expression even amongst the traces of sorrow.

            “Your mother must have been a remarkable woman,” Tom offered after a moment of silence.

            Cass’s lips turned up into something akin to humor, laughing even through her tears. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. “Yes.. She was.” She paused, looking back to the headstone.

            _I love you, Mom._

            “She was the keystone of our entire family. She understood us – my sister and I – in ways that Dad never could. She kept us together. She made our house, a happy one.”

            “I wish that I could have met her,” Tom replied.

            Cass laughed more fully this time. “She would’ve liked you, you know.”

            He pulled her closer. “I can’t think of a more meaningful compliment.”

            Cassie ducked her head slightly, too choked up to say anything more at the moment. Sniffling, she wiped off her cheeks even as she leaned into his shoulder. Nodding her head, Cassandra’s legs shifted beneath her, as she slowly found the strength to stand.

            Rising alongside her, Tom kept his arm looped securely around her. She hadn’t needed the support, he thought. She could have done it on her own.

            But if she _wanted_ it, it was already there.

            “Let’s go,” Cass murmured quietly, her fingers lingering wistfully on the headstone. “She would’ve hated this.. Staying here, being sad. She would’ve wanted us to smile. Laugh. Be happy.”

            Tom squeezed his arm around her slightly. “Do you mind going on a head for a moment?”

            Cassandra looked at him, nonplussed. As he met her gaze with his own entreating one, the young woman just nodded. Slipping away from Tom’s side, Cassie slowly walked down the path on her own. The solitude permitted her mind to wander, the thoughts of Susan coming faster and more relentlessly now than they had when she first arrived.

            _No tears, sweetheart. Not for this. Not for love._

            Nearly feeling her mother’s touch against her cheek, Cass shook her head, leaning against the gate that she had entered in.

            At the top of the path, Tom watched her go. Her arms were crossed over her midriff and her steps were stiff, although braver now than they had been when she first arrived. He sighed and shifted to stand more comfortably. Locking his right knee and propping his left foot out slightly, Tom’s hands curled in his pockets as he just observed the blonde.

            She had woken up so quietly, but the attempt not to wake him had been in vain. Even before her cellphone alarm had vibrated, he had been awake. In the silent minutes of the pre-dawn he had watched the light grow gradually brighter, bringing her features into focus. Cassandra had seemed at peace, then.

            The furtive attempts to leave without waking him – in the misbegotten belief that he likely had to film that morning, which had changed due to a last minute alteration in schedule – had only piqued his curiosity. Following the woman quietly, it was transparent the instant the cemetery came into view where she was going. Tom had continued to hang back, feeling as if he had invaded on a moment not meant for him to be a part of. Yet, his heart dictated he not leave her alone when she was such a visible portrait of anguish.

            It had ebbed away, he thought. It was not _gone_ but it had begun to recede.

            Turning, the Englishman looked down at the headstone that Cassie had knelt before for so long.

            “Susan,” he offered in a more subdued voice than normal. “I’m glad to have come here. To have seen this. All of this.” His shoulders rolled back as he exhaled slowly.

            Tilting his head to the side, his blue eyes were intense on the epitaph. “She must be a reflection of you. I see very little of Joseph in her.. so it must be you that she resembles most. I’m sorry that no one was there to help you when you needed it, Susan, but I promise you. I _will_ help her. I love her. I can do no less.”

            He stayed beside the graveside a moment longer, letting the time smooth away the raggedness of emotion that had transposed itself in his voice. Cassandra, he suspected, had been a reflection of what Susan had been. No one had helped Cass’s mother.

            He would be damned if there was no one to help her when she needed it.

            The vow made – both a promise to a grave and one to his heart – he spun about on his heel, long legs eating up the distance down the pathway to where Cassie waited by the gate to the cemetery. Pulling up alongside her, he looked at her and expected an inquiring gaze. All Tom received was one of enigmatic understanding.

            Of all the people in the world, Cass understood talking to a headstone.

            Her hand reached out, fingers tentatively locking with his.

            “Let’s go,” she urged quietly, finger brushing over his knuckles. Tom’s hand squeezed around hers in response as he ducked to brush a kiss against her cheek.

            “Yes,” he agreed quietly.

            _I just want you to be happy._


	35. I'll Try Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please note the time-skip. This is, effectively, both final chapter and epilogue all in one. The writing style may feel a little different as it’s been so long since I’ve written this story but Cassandra deserved an ending worthy of her nature. I only hope I’ve managed to pen one of the like I had in mind.
> 
> And so we've come to the end of Cassandra and Tom! I hope you've enjoyed it. I know I have.

 

February 1, 2013

 

 

Rain tatted incessantly against the windowpanes as the afternoon hours whiled away. It had snowed the week before – had it really only been a week? Cass paused; her characteristic stillness settling over her.

 

It must have. When Tom had left (after an intolerably sleepless night where the sounds of his restiveness lent to urgent productivity had kept the woman in a light doze through the earliest of the morning hours) there had been snow. There had been ice. The airports were a mess, cancellations and closures snarling travel for everyone.

 

The briefest throb of guilt pulled at Cassandra’s consciousness. _Maybe he won’t be able to go?_

 

It had meant so much to him to depart, though, his enthusiasm and excitement for the experience a nearly palpable thing. She had hugged him, kissed him, fingers lingering on his cheek in a quiet trace of features that Cassie was sure, would only serve to haunt her thoughts with interminable frequency. A blustery wash of cold air into the darkness, the click of a door – _gone._

 

At least he had taken the damn headlamp. “ _Torch,_ ” his voice chided in her memory. Lamp. Torch. Light. Bright, shiny thing that hooked over his ridiculous head and emitted light, Cass had finally concluded and Tom, ceding the argument, had just laughed. It was laughter that she only wished she could reciprocate as she had filmed him, packing his bits and bobs for the trip.

 

He was ridiculous, she thought, but it was a thought without recrimination. The thought was rooted in a part of her heart that had room for nothing but love for the man. Even though he had left.

 

Cassandra sighed, breaking the spell of stillness. She extended her leg stiffly, hooking it over the arm of the chair as she stretched slowly. It was dark already. Not that it meant much, February in London with the rain. At least it had done its best to chew away at the ice that had done so much to snarl incoming flights.

 

The door blew open before it ricocheted off the stop. It was a sharp sound and one that was more than enough of a catalyst for the woman to launch herself over the arm of the chair. Her stocking covered feet scrabbled for traction on the slick floor.

 

Her own delay was enough for Tom to shoulder in through the door and click it shut behind him. His bag was left on the tile, damp and forgotten, as Cassandra’s arms wound their way around his neck.

 

It was, for all of the noise of the rain at the glass and traffic on the street, a surprisingly quiet reunion.

 

Her cheek was warm against the chilled skin of his neck. His arms were bitingly tight around her waist. For the longest moment it seemed that the two – housemates, friends, lovers – would stand at the foyer all night to revel in the simple intimacy of being able to touch one another once again.

 

She didn’t need words, Cass thought. This was enough. Him, his heart beating steadily against her own breast, his breath ruffling her escaped locks as his cheek turned to press more firmly against her hair. But he tightened his grasp, a low, wordless sound coming from him and the idea of _not_ responding was simply inconceivable. Her hands trailed around from the back of his neck (one hand’s fingers had curled into his tousled hair) to trace along his jawline. Letting one travel further, to press against the opened V of his coat, the other lingered at his cheek. Fingers curling gently along the familiar plane, Cass lifted herself up to press her lips gently against his.

 

“Welcome back, Tom.”  


* * *

 

February 14, 2013

 

“That was fantastic,” Tom enthused, his pleasure a thing practically radiating across the table.

 

Provided it didn’t get ensnared in the most certainly real floral centerpiece along the way. Cass eyed it for a moment (as she had done throughout the meal, quiet speculation on whether the plants were very good fakes or real) before laughing along with him. (Conclusion: real. A place like this wouldn’t allow for fake flowers, not even exceptionally well done ones.)

 

She reached across the table, resting her fingertips on the back of his hand. “It was also a fantastic surprise.” Her voice was quieter, cheeks warm with the flush of pleasure and the heady red wine that they had been drinking throughout dinner.

 

“I truly had no idea you were planning this.”

 

She squeezed his fingers lightly between hers before she let her hand escape back across the white clothed table to her side. They had been tucked into a quiet, private corner. Brick wall was comfortable against her back, the intimacy of their nook an inescapable press that might have once stymied Cassie’s levels of comfort. A year and change had done their wonders, though.

 

Tom laughed. “I was in perpetual fear that you might see the reservation confirmation and the whole thing’d be spoilt.”

 

He rose first, before reaching around to quietly take Cass’s hands in his. She smiled brightly up at him, putting pressure against his grasp and using it to lever herself up. Caught by surprise Tom’s base of support wavered briefly before they were both afoot, and in balance once again.

 

Cassie grinned impishly at him. “Slow on the draw there. Something on your mind?”

 

Tom’s arm wrapped around her waist, his palm a familiar burn at her waist. It was without thought that they fell into step, Cassandra’s side melding quietly against his as his arm settled to brace about her back and side. It was comfort, in the relaxation that they walked so easily together. Familiarity that bespoke of an intimate awareness of one another. But there was more to it than that, the quiet affection with which she teased him and the ease with which it was dealt back in turn as his arm tightened around her in a light squeeze.

 

“Dessert. I cannot _believe_ you didn’t want to stay for the extra!”

 

Her laugh was a delighted one as they drew abreast of the coat closet, the hostess pulling out both of theirs promptly. Tom shrugged into his effortlessly before handing Cassandra into her own. The brass buttons that marched down the front were no especial challenge and her hands turned their attention to the collar of his coat, which she smoothed out with mindless familiarity.

 

It was a gesture they had done what seemed to be a thousand times or more. This time, however, Cass used Tom’s broad frame as an anchor. Pressing down lightly on them she elevated herself up another inch (the heels on her pumps had done for three already, which was more than convenient) before pressing a kiss against his cheek.

 

Her lips dragged against the faintest suggestion of stubble for a moment as she paused by his ear. “It has to be near eleven already. You _cannot_ tell me you would prefer to spend the remainder of Valentines day eating dessert when you know very well that we’ve always been more than adept at keeping ourselves entertained on our own.”

 

The words were only audible to his ears. Still, the way that the tall blonde nimbly twisted away and pressed her hands against the door to the exit, it was clear that she was expecting the hand that reached out with mercurial swiftness.

 

One of them landed on the doorframe. His gloved palm was broad against it, pushing it open before she could manage. The other returned to wrap around her waist, a familiar press and Cassie only laughed as she reached around to give him a one-armed embrace as they stepped out into the cold February night.

 

“Well, darling, it seemed that it’s decided to start snowing while we ate.”

 

The droll observation evoked a quiet snort from Cass. “I question your definition of _snow._ ”

 

Still, Tom seemed inclined to stroll down the sidewalk a ways. Cassandra eyed the square that seemed likely to be his eventual destination, but it was some blocks up. Even as suspicion and her own intuitiveness keyed up she let her head rest against his shoulder as the walked: their pace was slower, acknowledgement to both the ice and her own heeled shoes.

 

She broached the idea of a taxi, although it was demurred in favor of walking a while longer. Willing to acquiesce to it for the moment, Cass kept an eye on how close they were getting to the romantically lit square, snow flurrying through the lights.

 

Silence between them was a comfortable weight. Neither felt a press, a goad to drive them into speech and for a good many steps they continued that way.

 

Cass glanced up, snowflakes caught in his tousled hair. Blowing breath past his ear into the locks, she laughed quietly as snow whirled away. Temporarily bemused, he glanced down at her before finding the lacing in her own golden waves and a finger came up to flick at them in quiet amusement.

 

“Not to ruthlessly murder all the romance in your soul, Hiddleston, but my feet are cold. My legs are cold. My _eyes_ are cold.” Hunching her shoulders up so the coat (more decorative than sensible) would shield more of her neck and face, she fixed Tom with a contemplative look. “So, the love of my life, can I seduce you with the idea of a taxi? Just imagine. The plush seats…the heating! Practically scandalous.”

 

Emotion flickered over Tom’s face for a moment before it was clamped down on. Frustration. Embarrassment. Uncertainty. Good-natured humor was what he settled on though, and it was an expression she was most familiar with.

 

Reaching up, she pressed her lips against his. Turning in his arms, as both had come up to wrap around her, one hand of hers was secure against the breast of his coat. Cass’s lips parted, a quiet invitation (from her chilled flesh to his) that Tom was more than happy to partake of as his lips slanted more firmly against hers, a hand creeping up to curl around the back of her skull –

 

Before she was gone. The black pumps that she had worn all evening were left, one of them thudding against his shin as she kicked them off with deceptive nimbleness. With nothing but stockings protecting her feet, Cass scampered towards the road’s edge, hand up to flag a cab even as the man behind her was left speechless, befuddled, stupefied.

 

“Since you’re such a nice man, I’ll even say the cab’s on me,” Cass chorused over her shoulder as she ducked into the vehicle that pulled to a stop. She hastily moved over, anticipating the man’s dive into the taxi behind her.

 

She wasn’t left wanting. Tom found himself seated and the door closed and then pulled her closer with one arm while the other hand dangled her shoes between them. “You _insane_ ,”

 

“Maddening, ridiculous?” Cass chimed in, lips pressed into a moue of severity although the tick at the corners belied her attempt not to laugh.

 

He tugged her closer, shoes suddenly in her lap as he wrapped both arms around her. “thoroughly _enchanting_ woman, what were you _thinking?_ ”

 

Bussing her nose against his cheek, Cass laughed as she turned slightly to her side. Her hip was no longer pressing so uncomfortably against him and her cheek was able to rest more easily on his shoulder. Closing her eyes in the darkness of the street she could only grin.

 

The ball of her foot ran up his shin. “My feet are warmer here?”

 

* * *

 

February 15 (In reality, all of 20 minutes later), 2013

 

Shoes were left in a jumbled pile at the door. At least their coats had managed to find their way to hooks. Brushing his cheek against hers, Tom couldn’t help but be given pause.

 

“You’re frozen, love. Go get changed into something warmer. I’ll make a proper cuppa for the both of us.”

 

Minutes ticked by, nylons and dress were discarded for the more comfortable trappings of socks and a long sleeved shirt with a suspiciously familiar V. The shoulders were too wide to sit on Cassandra especially well, but the fabric was thick enough that she found it comforting, even though she had to roll back the sleeves for her hands to emerge.

 

Emerging herself from their room and traipsing down the stairs to the main level Cassie was drawn to a halt. She wavered on the last step, hand lingering on the bannister for security.

 

The lights in the flat had been dimmed. Candlelight shone most brightly, but it lacked constancy as air pushed and pulled it this way and that. Tom’s outline was easily identified even in the low lighting, as her eyes instinctively sought him out. His smile…it was the same. It always would be, she thought in a flash of clarity.

 

His hand reached out in quiet invitation.

 

Blinking at him in uncertainty, Cass lingered a moment longer. Her eyes tripped back to the candle, before flickering to the clock hanging on the wall – 12:22.

 

The woman smiled.

 

With a fearlessness that had long since escaped her, she took the last step of the stairs before crossing the room to him. Curling her hand in his, she let Tom draw her closer to him, hands settling on her waist for a moment. His fingers curled in the fabric of _his_ shirt, something he seemed to recognize in that very instant. He huffed, wry self deprecation wrought in every line as he pressed his forehead against the crown of her head.

 

“Damn,” he breathed. “I’m destined to make a mess of this.”

 

Drawing her back away from the table, her hands secured into one of his, Cass allowed him to pull her towards the center of the room, pull her even closer to him even as he dropped to a knee, finally releasing her as he brought up a velvet box, using his newly freed hand to click it open.

 

“Cassie.”

 

Affixed in silence, her eyes were on his, quiet impassiveness in the dimness a silent entreaty for him not to let her _wonder._

 

“Cass. Cassandra.” Tom’s voice dropped pitch, the softer rumble an intimately familiar thing. “Darling.. I love you.” He paused, not _grasping_ for words, but the intensity of his regard might have, in any other moment, sent the woman into a retreat.

 

“You’re the woman I love, Cass. You’ve taught me so much. About myself. About the world. And you’ve let me learn you, as well. I love you so much, darling, and I love who you’ve helped me become. Would you marry me, Cass? Do me the greatest of honors, be mine? Let me be yours?”

 

“Tom,” Cassandra spoke at last, her voice calm steadiness in the face of the emotional hooks that he had beset to her. Her feet shuffled forward, hands tracing his cheeks before using his shoulders as support.

 

She found herself on her knees on the floor, awkward even now, but it didn’t matter as in a flurry of motion she had wrapped her arms around his neck, was kissing him, was being kissed _by_ him, holding and being held so tightly, so thoroughly, that she was hard pressed to identify where she had ended and he began. Perhaps that was the most telling part of all: she didn’t want to bother to try.

 

“Yes, Tom,” she breathed quietly. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

 

A ring was seated on her finger. The woman herself was embraced on his lap as they found themselves on the couch, unwilling to separate themselves from one another. And then Cassie found herself rattled.

 

Literally, rattled.

 

Tom was laughing, a hearty, full sound that resonated in the dimly lit room. On his lap and leaning against his chest, Cassandra was jostled about so much so that she placed a hand over his shoulder for security. It was an unnecessary thing – his arms about her waist were implacable – but she stared at him in a befuddlement that was explicit across her features.

 

“Damn, Cass,” he whispered breathlessly, left without air from his laughter. “I didn’t know if I’d make it through the day.. So many times I was trying to ask but I just.. I _couldn’t._ ”

 

And Cass, to her credit, only lifted a brow. And then she smiled, her arms drawing her closer to him. Lips barely brushing against his, she peered into his eyes intently for a moment. Her own laughter was silent, but bright in her eyes.

 

“I know,” she breathed against his lips. “What. You think I’d let us be the cliché that gets engaged on Valentines?” Tom stared at her. Shock.

 

She kissed him before she finally gave into her laughter. “You should know me better than that, Hiddleston.”

 

And for what it was worth, he simply upended her onto the couch, tackling her and using the length of his figure to press her into the cushions as he let his forehead rest against her breastbone. “Wicked, _wicked_ woman,” he gasped out again, fingers lacing through hers. “You’re never going to stop surprising me, are you? What am I supposed to tell everyone when they ask?” He paused, lifting himself up to peer down at her more intently as he grinned. "That you've gotten the best of me yet again, I suppose."

 

Cass squeezed his fingers between hers. “We’ll make our own story to tell, full of laughter and love and the way we choose to live our lives.” _And of you, and I, and of the dreams we’ve dreamt for one another._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of a story that's partially completed under my fanfiction account. I'll upload the chapters here fairly consistently. It will largely be the same story but certain mature scenes will be expanded and covered in more detail. You can find supplemental information for DFMT at the tumblr link dfmtinfo.tumblr.com  
> For those of you who are just starting this story: welcome, and I hope you enjoy it!


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